Preparing to cross the desert — Articles for barter — My barge
— My new “boy” — My crew — Stranded — A miserable people
— “Cram-cram” — Borgou — Bamba — Under sail — A variety
of game — The defile of Tosaye — The “Oued Telemsi” — A
curious coloured clay — Gao — A lazy class — Mosques at Gao
— A perilous journey — Giraffe.
ON the 12th of April my barge was to be ready for me at Kabara. I had
asked the Commandant to send a telegram to the authorities at Gao,
advising them of the probable date of my arrival there, and asking
that the necessary camels and guide should be ready for me. I thus
hoped to avoid further delay, as time was of such importance to me.
While at Timbuctu I had gleaned some information about the probable
line of wells I should follow from Gao, for I had not previously
studied this part of the Sahara, but only that portion I had intended
to cross from Timbuctu in accordance with my original plans. The
information at Timbuctu even was very scanty, and I was told that
before arriving at Gao it would not be possible to find out any more.
Before leaving Timbuctu I arranged for the despatch of the heads
and skins I had collected since leaving Bamako. They were consigned
to a French firm, who agreed to have them sent through their head
establishment in France to my home address. They would, of course,
go up the Niger and down the Senegal River to the coast. On arriving
at Bamako I had similarly arranged for the despatch of the trophies
I had collected on my way from Sierra Leone. As the Senegal River
would be at its driest during the next three or four months,
it was probable that my things would not arrive in England for
several months.
Another important matter was to cash my drafts at Timbuctu before
leaving, and to lay in a supply of the most useful articles for
barter _en route_. Below Timbuctu very little money is used on the
Niger. Salt and a blue cotton stuff are in great requisition for the
purchase of anything. The cotton stuff is called “guinée” by
the French. If it is required to buy a fowl or sheep the procedure
is to break off a piece of salt from one of the big bars or to tear
off a small portion of the “guinée” and give that in exchange
for the article to be purchased. The “guinée” is measured in
“coudées,” or forearm lengths. Between Gao and Timbuctu a
sheep can be bought for two or three “coudées,” but as one
gets farther from the river, on entering the desert, the price
of everything naturally rises rapidly, while in many places even
untold “guinée coudées” will not tempt the native to part
with his produce.
I therefore converted a portion of my cash into salt and
“guinée.” I was also advised to get in a stock of a certain
kind of food which is very useful in the desert and not obtainable
at Gao. This is called “couscous.” It consists merely of the
wheat used for Timbuctu bread, prepared in a particular way. The
wheat is unhusked and then steamed for some hours. It is dry and
very portable, at the same time it softens quickly in a little water,
and is easily digested. “Couscous” can be carried in a bag slung
across a camel, and will keep for months in this manner. Frequently
there is not time to stop for a meal in the desert, when a handful of
“couscous” can be conveniently moistened in a tumbler of water
without dismounting from the camel. I took a large quantity with me
and found it invaluable. It lasted me all the way across the Sahara.
My barge was about sixty feet long, with a well-covered portion,
about thirty feet long, in the centre, in which I lived. The rest of
the space was for the crew and my servant. I had my bed pitched in
one end of my room, my baggage being arranged all around it, while
the table was in the centre. There was plenty of room, and it was
not uncomfortable. The covering was made of strong palm-thatch,
and was high enough to give plenty of space for a man to stand
upright in the room underneath.
The barge was worked by a crew of eight and a boatswain. They
generally used poles, but sometimes paddled the craft.
In the early morning, until the sun got too hot, I used to sit on
the top of my awning with my shot-gun and rifle beside me, often
getting a shot at a bird or crocodile. It was very pleasant in
the fresh morning air, watching the changing scenery as we glided
steadily past the banks. In the middle of the day I used to halt,
near a village if possible, for lunch. This plan gave the crew a
rest, and was welcomed by everyone as a chance of getting ashore.
In the evening I also used to halt for dinner, but it was then
often dark before we got ashore.
Sometimes, when the banks were favourable, we would tie a rope
on to the mast and tow the barge, while the boatswain sat at the
rudder, shouting out directions to the men on the tow-line. During
the heat of the day, when sitting in my room, I found ample time
for, and occupation in writing up my notes, which had not had as
careful attention as I could have wished while I was hunting in
the “Bend” of the Niger. I cannot say that I ever found the
time hanging heavily on my hands, although, of course, there were
moments when I should have been very glad of a companion.
At Timbuctu I had not been sorry to part with my servant Mamadu,
and had got a far better “boy” in his place. My new factotum was
called Musa. He was a Hausa from the Zaberma country, north-west
of Northern Nigeria, who had for a time been employed by a French
officer at Timbuctu, but was now out of work. Besides being a
better and more trustworthy servant, he had some experience of the
desert. He had been for two years the “boy” of Commandant Gadel,
a distinguished French officer, who had travelled considerably in
the Eastern Sahara. Musa was a hard-working and devoted “boy.”
He had some fairly rough times while in the desert with me, and bore
all the hardships and discomforts uncomplainingly. He was a fine
type of native, standing a little over six feet, with a broad chest
and sturdy arms, and, like most Hausas, was an excellent marcher,
a most indispensable asset for my servant.
My crew were Bambaras, who are preferred by the French as boatmen on
their Niger craft. They are very strong, and wonderfully enduring. My
crew worked day and night for seven days continuously. By day the
whole crew were on duty, while at night they worked in two reliefs,
one half resting and the other half working. We seldom halted for
more than three hours per diem—an hour at midday and two hours
in the evening—so that they really had very little rest.
The Bambaras hold the Sonrhais in great contempt, forgetful of
the day when the Sonrhay was a far more powerful individual than
was the Bambara, and, indeed, held many of that race in slavery.
But times had changed, and it was amusing to hear the scathing
remarks of my boatswain as we passed a Sonrhay canoe or habitation.
He used to say they were a miserable people, more like sheep than
men, because they ate grass growing on the Niger banks! The Bambaras
are rather proud and great spendthrifts. They like to live on the
fat of the land, considering a man who is content with humbler diet
as a miserable creature, not even worthy of pity.
The first few miles of the journey after leaving Kabara lay through
a shallow stream, which was the waterway connecting Kabara with
the Niger on the east. This stream was so shallow that we had
considerable difficulty in moving at all. The barge only drew about
nine inches of water, but in spite of this she kept on sticking on
the mud. When this happened the crew had to get out and push until
we got clear. Progress was very slow. Finally, about half a mile
before reaching the Niger, there was practically no water at all.
Our efforts to move the barge were fruitless, and unless we got
help we seemed likely to stick for months, until the water rose.
Accordingly, I sent some of the crew to seek out the nearest village
and bring assistance. It took some fifty men to get us out of our
difficulties, and then it was only effected by digging a trench
under the barge, through which she was hauled by the triumphant,
yelling mob of natives.
Owing to the delay caused by the shallow water our progress that
day was not great. In twelve hours we had only covered eight miles.
But during the remainder of the voyage we averaged thirty-five miles
in the twenty-four hours. As this included a halt of about three
hours daily, and only half the crew were at work during the night,
the result was not bad.
The whole way down the river from Kabara to Gao the banks are
populated by Sonrhais. I must own to rather agreeing with my friend
the Bambara boatswain. These people are certainly very wretched
specimens of humanity. The Sonrhais on this portion of the Niger
seem to have degenerated more than those whom I had hitherto met.
They are absolutely poverty-stricken, and apparently make no effort
to ameliorate their position. They possess practically no cattle
or sheep, but live on rotting fish and grass. The former is in
great evidence all down the Niger. There are tanks where the fish
are caught, and drying-places close by. In the latter the fish are
left to rot, when they are taken away and eaten. The stench from
these places is truly disgusting. Even the Bambaras used to turn
up their noses at it.
The grass they eat is of two kinds—the “borgou,” with which
I was now so familiar, and which is eaten raw or in a kind of
soup, and “cram-cram.” “Cram-cram” is a grass peculiar
to desert vegetation; it is intensely prickly, and it is the seed
of this that is boiled and eaten by the Sonrhais of this locality.
“Cram-cram” is a very nourishing seed, I was given to understand.
The flocks of the desert are very partial to this grass, as are also
camels. It has the annoying habit of sticking to one’s legs as
one walks through it, just as burrs do in England. “Cram-cram”
is worse, however, than a burr, because it breaks up into countless
little prickles, each one so fine that it can hardly be seen. These
prickles have points as sharp as a needle, which stick into the
fingers of the hapless victim, and are hard to extract because
they are so hard to locate. I once saw a French officer who had a
little dog which was suffering from “cram-cram.” The poor little
creature was in tortures, and unable to withdraw these miniature
daggers from his toes. It took some time and patience on our part
before we could relieve him of all of them.
In some places we would pass a temporary village of Fulanis, who
had come down to the water-side to allow their cattle to graze on
the luxuriant “borgou.” Occasionally, also, we would see an
encampment of Tuaregs, who had selected this spot as favourable
for their flocks of sheep and goats. These people generally stay on
the higher ground to the north of the river, but, at this season,
when the grass is scorched by the hot sun and grazing is poor for
their animals, they approach the Niger in order to find pasturage
for their flocks.
The river here is more than half a mile wide in its navigable
channel, but there are besides several hundred yards of “borgou”
swamps on either side. Near the villages a channel is cut through
this stuff, by which canoes can approach. Otherwise it forms an
impenetrable mass on the edges of the water. In the hot season
the “borgou” is left isolated, as the river falls, until it
dies away for want of moisture; for water is a necessity to the
existence of this grass.
On the left bank the desert seems to commence almost as soon as the
water is left. Stretches of sand, with a little stunted vegetation,
characterize the country on this side of the Niger. The ground rises
in a series of parallel sand-dunes towards the interior. On the
right bank there is more vegetation, and apparently more human life.
On the 15th we arrived at the post of Bamba. This little place
is practically the most northern point of the “Bend” of
the Niger. For this reason it has been a favourite objective
for the marauding bands of the desert in the past, and, even now,
is sometimes descended on by a party of these intrepid highwaymen
should they find a good opportunity. It is naturally easier for
them to raid the place geographically nearest their desert wilds,
and then to escape before retribution is visited upon them. At
Bamba there are a French Commissioner and a European in charge
of the Post and Telegraph Office. One curious feature of Bamba
is the existence of a few date palms. These were planted by the
Moors during their occupation of the country about A.D. 1500, and
are practically the only ones in the Western Soudan. Dates seen in
the country are generally imported from the oases of the Sahara,
many hundred miles to the northward. Here, much to the delight of
my crew, I gave them a present of a sheep, and made a longer halt
than usual that evening to give them time to cook it.
The Commissioner, with whom I had dined, came down to the river to
see me off, as I started about 9 p.m.
The effects of a heavy meal of sheep had evidently been too much
for my Bambaras, for I found them one and all sleeping soundly and
snoring lustily. We had great difficulty in arousing them from their
torpor, so that it was considerably after the appointed hour when
we got under way. There was a fair breeze blowing, of which we took
advantage to hoist our sail. The river in this section runs almost
due east, and as the wind is usually from the east or north-east, we
had not previously had an opportunity of trying to sail. Under the
starry sky we sped rapidly along, and I sat outside for some time,
enjoying the cool air and the beautiful tropical night. In the early
morning the wind shifted to its accustomed quarter, and we found
ourselves opposed by a strong easterly gale. Generally speaking,
this wind lasted from 5 a.m. till 11 a.m., and we made but little
progress during these hours. Small wavelets would play over the
face of the Niger, and a heavy spray would be blown on board.
The river was now at its widest, and from shore to shore must
have been well over three miles. How strange it seemed to look
at this vast, broad stream and to think of its appearance when I
first saw it at its birth, near the Tembikunda Mountains. It had
travelled far since those days, having covered about 1200 miles.
This portion of the river contains many islands, which are covered
by water when the Niger rises, but are the habitation of Fulani
and Tuareg with their herds and flocks at this time of the year.
Landing on these islands for the evening halt, one was always sure
of finding some duck and teal in the ponds and swamps upon them.
The red-fronted gazelle and kob are plentiful. The former is found
chiefly on the left bank, as being more sandy and desert-like,
while the latter has its favourite haunts on the right bank, where
the marshy ground is suited to its habits. On the left bank I was
informed there were giraffe, but I never saw their tracks. I think,
however, that it is very probable giraffe are found between Bamba
and Bourem, where the country seems well suited to them. Senegal
haartebeest are on both banks. In the river there are a few hippo
pools, but hippopotami did not seem as plentiful here as they had
been higher up the Niger. The stately marabout and the picturesque
crown-bird were both familiar objects on the Niger landscape. The
latter bird was particularly common about here, and was easy to
approach. The crown-bird, or crested crane, is certainly one of
the handsomest birds found on this part of the Niger, for its fine
plumage and quaint straw-coloured crest at once distinguish it from
the ordinary waterfowl here seen.
On the 16th of April, about 7 a.m., we approached the Defile of
Tosaye. This was rather an interesting point in the Niger scenery,
for here, for the first time since the Rapids of Kienefala, near
Bamako, the river gathers a more rapid current. On the whole
the Niger current is sluggish, as the fall of the land from the
Tembikunda Mountains to the sea is so gradual. But at Tosaye the
stream is forced through a narrow defile, and the water, which
just before was spread over a breadth of at least two miles, is
compressed into a width of 500 to 600 yards. The rush of water is
remarkable in comparison to the slow, steady flow to which we had
so long been accustomed.
The entrance to the defile is a pretty sight. On either side
there begins to appear a low ridge of laterite rocks, which
gradually rises to a height of forty feet above the level of the
stream, in a precipitous mass. The whole length of the defile is
three miles, while three distinct rocky barriers cross the river
transversely. These transverse barriers render navigation dangerous
and arduous. A fourth barrier, passing longitudinally up and down
stream, divides the waterway into two nearly equal passages. The
current flows at a rate of six to eight knots an hour at this time
of year, but when the river is in full flood the rush of water must
be tremendous. In the channels themselves there are numerous jagged
rocks projecting, or half-hidden under water. Navigation, therefore,
is a risky business, and the frail native canoes often get dashed
to pieces against one of them. There is an old French fort, at a
bend in the defile, perched on the top of the rocks on the right
bank. The place is now disused, but was built originally to command
the Tosaye defile when the French first occupied this portion of
the country. Except for this narrow fringe of rocks on each side,
the country is of a sandy nature, covered with the usual sparse,
desert-like vegetation.
On emerging from the defile the transition is almost as rapid as it
was on entering Tosaye, for the rocks rapidly disappear, the river
quickly resumes its former width, and the current reverts to its
normal pace.
About twenty miles below Tosaye is the post of Bourem. The chief
interest of Bourem lies in the fact that it is at the mouth of
the “Wad Telemsi,” or “Oued Telemsi.” This is a dried-up
watercourse, descending from the heart of the Sahara to the River
Niger. In olden times it must have been an important tributary of the
river, but now water does not flow in it above the surface; below
the surface, however, there is water, and for this reason there is
a well-defined line of wells along the watercourse, and it forms a
trade route for caravans travelling from the Sahara to the Niger.
It follows that Bourem is a place frequented by caravans, although
it is not of much importance in itself, and these caravans merely
use it as a halting-place _en route_ to the bigger markets of Gao
or Timbuctu.
At Bourem there is found a curious coloured clay, which is used
for houses. There are three colours of this clay, pink, violet, and
white. The town itself lies up a small branch of the Niger, about
five miles from the main stream. When the river is at its fullest
the main stream covers all the intervening land, making one wide
expanse of water with its small branch, and, at this period, Bourem
has the Niger flowing at its very walls. The town is built on a high
rise of ground, so is at all times clearly visible from the Niger.
Soon after leaving Tosaye and before arriving at Bourem, the river
takes a decided turn south-east, as it enters on its course down the
big “Bend.” Between this point and a prominent spur on the left
bank, called Mount Tondibi, the width again increases to over four
miles. As Gao is approached the width decreases to about two miles,
and the channel is interrupted by several islands and large masses
of “borgou.” On the right bank a ridge of sand-hills makes
its appearance, running close to the water’s edge. This part
of the country is the centre of a large rice-growing population,
the quality of whose rice, if not the quantity, compares favourably
with that grown in Macina.
At the landing-stage at Gao I was met by a French officer, who
conducted me to the Commandant. As it was late that evening the
Commandant would not hear of business being discussed till the
following day. I was given a comfortable dwelling in the officers’
mess quarters, who, with their usual hospitality, insisted on my
remaining their guest during my stay at Gao. On landing at Gao the
first sight which strikes the visitor is a number of huge skulls of
elephant, set up on high pedestals, adorning the front of the fort.
These animals have been shot at various times by the officers
stationed at Gao, and their skulls have been put to this rather
singular use. Gao is quite the best planned station on the Upper
and Middle Niger. A fine avenue of trees has been planted along the
river bank; behind this lie the Commandant’s house, the fort, and
the native quarter respectively. The native quarter has been built
some distance away from the Europeans’ houses, so that there is
a fine open space between them. The houses are substantially built,
with big rooms and lofty flat roofs. The desert is behind the town,
so that its well-to-do appearance is all the more striking.
I came across a class of people here whom I had not previously
met. These were the Armas. They are a fusion of the Moorish and
Sonrhay races, and are found in small groups between Bamba and Gao.
Apparently they are a lazy, good-for-nothing people, who consider
themselves superior to the Sonrhais and refuse to work. Now that
slavery and serfdom are rapidly dying out, this tribe will find
existence somewhat difficult unless they change their habits. The
officer administering Gao told me he had given them notice that if
they did not shortly show some intention of working he would turn
them out of the town. In appearance they are more like the Moors
than the Sonrhais, but are darker than the former. They have their
own quarter in the place, and also have a mosque to themselves.
There are two fine mosques at Gao, one of which is three centuries
old.
At Gao I used to stroll in the evening on the flat roof of my abode
and gaze over the vast desert stretched out in front of me, wondering
what adventures that solemn, forbidding expanse held in store for me.
The Commandant had arranged for camels for me and a guide, but
they would not be ready for a few days, so I had a little time to
complete my preparations. In the meantime the Commandant did his
best to dissuade me from attempting to cross the desert, wishing
me to return to Europe through Dahomey, which was the quickest
way from Gao. His reasons were that my journey would be difficult
and dangerous, and my chances of arriving at the other end of the
Sahara in safety were remote. He said that quite recently they had
had reports of the movement of a marauding party of Arabs who were
within easy reach of the line of wells I should probably follow.
Further, there was a bad stretch of desert to be crossed, called the
Tanezrouft, in which there were no wells for seven days, and, at this
hot season of the year, the passage of this waterless tract would
be particularly arduous. I dare say he felt that it was his duty to
try to dissuade me from my enterprise, and probably thought besides
that he might be held responsible should any mishap befall me.
With some difficulty I explained that before leaving Sierra Leone
I was aware of the hardships and dangers likely to be encountered,
and that I should be extremely foolish to turn back at this point of
my travels. Moreover, having obtained permission for the journey,
I had no intention of abandoning it now. I think he was finally
convinced that I was firm in my resolves, and he then gave up
further attempts to shake them. To avoid any possibility of blame
being attached to him in the event of any accident to me, I signed a
paper stating that he had tried to make me abandon my desert journey,
but in spite of his warnings I had decided to carry it out. He was
particularly distressed because he could not send an escort with me,
for in the hot season most of the camels of his troops were out at
pasturage, and many had not recovered from their hard work of the
previous cold season. However, I told him I had never expected to
have an escort, and he must not be anxious on that account. As it
happened, he was sending some stores and ammunition to a French
detachment at a place called Kidal, about 170 miles north in the
Sahara, and so it was arranged that this escort should accompany me,
as Kidal lay on my route.
In the meantime we arranged a small hunting expedition to occupy
the time till my camels should be ready. One of the French officers
and I planned to go out to a place about one day’s march distant
to hunt giraffe.
We pitched our camp a few miles from the Niger on its right bank;
it was a place with a reputation for being frequented by giraffe,
and I had great hopes of getting a shot at one. The country was of
the usual sandy nature, with a certain amount of mimosa and scrubby
vegetation. The giraffe is extremely fond of the mimosa tree,
so it seemed likely I might find them at their feeding-time about
here. This interesting animal is very hard to see, as its curious
speckled colour assimilates well with the sandy surroundings, while
its long neck peeps through the leafy top of a mimosa and is hardly
discernible. Giraffes come down to the Niger to drink at night,
returning before dawn to their feeding-grounds in the interior,
and for this reason they are difficult to come across. Besides,
they are very shy. A giraffe will usually perceive you long before
you have perceived him, and he can travel both fast and far in a
day. A curious fact about the giraffe near Gao is that they are said
often to break the telegraph wire with their long necks as they go
down to the Niger to drink, for they do not notice the thin wire
as they pass it.
It seems a pity that large numbers of these giraffe are slaughtered
annually by the natives for their skins, which are used to make
shoe-soles, purses, etc. The giraffe is only found in comparatively
few places now, and it is to be feared that it will soon be
exterminated in this part of Africa, should stringent measures
not be adopted to prevent its wholesale massacre. The giraffe here
seemed generally to be in small numbers. I never noticed the tracks
of more than three together. In those cases there seemed to be one
a great deal smaller than the other two, which makes one imagine
that they do not breed much, there being only one baby in most of
these families. The natives hunt giraffe on horseback, pursuing
them many miles inland until they get weary, when they are easier
to approach. A horse will generally wear down a giraffe, although
the latter has a greater turn of speed.
Our camp at Gangaber was suddenly broken up by the news that the
camels and guide would be ready two days sooner than I had expected,
so we returned to Gao at once without getting a shot at giraffe.