encampment.
[Sidenote: Tuesday, January 21st.]
We started, with general enthusiasm, at an early hour; and the people of
our troop seeing the fires of the other divisions of the salt-caravan in
front of us still burning, jeered at their laziness, till at length, on
approaching within a short distance of the fires, we found that the
other people had set out long before, leaving their fires burning. A
poor woman, carrying a load on her head, and leading a pair of goats,
had attached herself to our party in Gazáwa; and though she had lost her
goats in the bustle of the previous afternoon, she continued her journey
cheerfully and with resignation.
After five hours’ march the whole caravan was suddenly brought to a
stand for some time, the cause of which was a ditch of considerable
magnitude, dug right across the path, and leaving only a narrow passage,
the beginning of a small path which wound along through thick thorny
underwood. This, together with the ditch, formed a sort of outer defence
for the cultivated fields and the pasture-grounds of Kátsena, against
any sudden inroad. Having passed another projecting mass of granite
rock, we passed two small villages on our left, called Túlla and
Takumáku, from whence the inhabitants came out to salute us. We encamped
at length in a large stubble-field, beyond some kitchen-gardens, where
pumpkins (dúmma) were planted, two miles N.E. from the town of Kátsena.
While we were pitching my tent, which was the only one in the whole
encampment, the sultan or governor of Kátsena came out with a numerous
retinue of horsemen, all well-dressed and mounted; and having learnt
from Elaíji that I was a Christian traveller belonging to a mission (a
fact, however, which he knew long before), he sent me soon afterwards a
ram and two large calabashes or dúmmas filled with honey—an honour which
was rather disagreeable to me than otherwise, as it placed me under the
necessity of making the governor a considerable present in return. I had
no article of value with me; and I began to feel some unpleasant
foreboding of future difficulties.
An approximative estimate of the entire number of the salt-caravan, as
affording the means of accurately determining the amount of a great
national commerce carried on between widely-separated countries, had
much occupied my attention, and having in vain tried on the road to
arrive at such an estimate, I did all I could to-day to obtain a list of
the different divisions composing it; but although Yáhia, one of the
principal of Ánnur’s people, assured me that there were more than thirty
troops, I was not able to obtain particulars of more than the following:
viz., encamped on this same ground with us was the salt-caravan of
Ánnur, of Elaíji, of Hámma with the Kél-táfidet, of Sálah, of Háj
Makhmúd with the Kél-tagrímmat, of Ámaki with the Amákita, of the
Imasághlar (led by Mohammed dan Ággeg), of the Kél-azanéres, of the Kél-
ínger (the people of Zingína), of the Kél-ágwau, and finally that of the
Kél-chémia. No doubt none of these divisions had more than two hundred
camels laden with salt, exclusive of the young and the spare camels; the
whole of the salt, therefore, collected here at the time was at the
utmost worth one hundred millions of kurdí, or about eight thousand
pounds sterling. Beside the divisions of the aïri which I have just
enumerated as encamped on this spot, the Erázar were still behind, while
the following divisions had gone on in advance: the Kél-n-Néggaru; the
Iseráraran, with the chief Bárka and the támberi (war chieftain) Nasóma;
and the Ikázkezan, with the chiefs Mohammed Irólagh and Wuentúsa.
We may therefore not be far from the truth if we estimate the whole
number of the salt-caravan of the Kél-owí, of this year, at two thousand
five hundred camels. To this must be added the salt which had gone to
Zínder, and which I estimate at about a thousand camel-loads, and that
which had been left in Tasáwa for the supply of the markets of the
country as far as Góber, which I estimate at from two hundred to three
hundred camel-loads. But it must be borne in mind that the country of
Ásben had been for some time in a more than ordinarily turbulent state,
and that consequently the caravan was at this juncture probably less
numerous than it would be in quiet times.
Being rather uneasy with regard to the intention of the governor of the
province, I went early the next morning to Elaíji, and assured him that,
besides some small things, such as razors, cloves, and frankincense, I
possessed only two red caps to give to the governor, and that I could
not afford to contract more debts by buying a bernús. The good old man
was himself aware of the governor’s intention, who, he told me, had made
up his mind to get a large present from me, otherwise he would not allow
me to continue my journey. I wanted to visit the town, but was prevented
from doing so under these circumstances, and therefore remained in the
encampment.
The governor, who spends a great deal of his time in a country-house
which he has recently built outside the town, about noon held a sort of
review of several hundred horsemen, whose horses, in general, were in
excellent condition. They were armed with a straight sword hanging on
the left, a long heavy spear for thrusting, and a shield, either of the
same description as that of the Tawárek, of oblong shape, made of the
hide of the large antelope (_Leucoryx_), or else of bullock’s or
elephant’s hide, and forming an immense circular disk of about five feet
in diameter; some of them wore also the dagger at the left arm, while I
counted not more than four or five muskets. Their dress was picturesque,
and not too flowing for warlike purposes, the large shirt, or shirts
(for they generally wear two), being fastened round the breast with an
Egyptian shawl with a red border; and even those who were dressed in a
bernús had it wound round their breast. Most of them wore black
“ráwani,” or shawls, round their faces, a custom which the Féllani of
Háusa have adopted from the Tawárek merely on account of its looking
warlike; for they have no superstitious reason for covering the mouth.
The harness of the horses was all of Háusa manufacture, the saddles very
different from those of the Tawárek (which seem to be identical with the
old Arab saddles). The stirrups formed a very peculiar kind of medium
between the large unwieldy stirrups of the modern Arab and the small
ones of the Tawárek and Europeans, the sole of the stirrup being long,
but turned down at both ends, while it is so narrow that the rider can
only thrust the naked foot into it. I could not understand the principle
upon which this kind of stirrup is made. It appeared to me a most absurd
specimen of workmanship.
[Illustration]
The Féllani in Kátsena have good reason to be on their guard against the
Kél-owí, who, in an underhand way, are always assisting the independent
Háusa states of Góber and Marádi in their struggle, and might some day
easily make common cause with them to drive out these arrogant intruders
from the conquered provinces. In fact they have done all in their power
to attain this object; and Ánnur’s policy is so well known to the
Féllani, that once when he came to Kátsena he received most shameful
treatment at their hands. Afterwards I was visited by El Wákhshi, and
paid him in return a visit at that part of the encampment where some of
his merchandise was deposited, for he himself was living in the town.
Here he introduced to me a person who was very soon to become one of my
direst tormentors, the bare remembrance of whom is even now unpleasant;
it was the háj Bel-Ghét, a man born in Tawát, but who had long been
settled in Kátsena, and though not with the title, yet in reality
holding the office of “a serkí-n-turáwa.”
A troop of eight mounted royal musicians (“masukídda-n-serkí”), who had
been playing the whole day before the several divisions of the “aïri,”
came likewise to my tent in the course of the afternoon, and gratified
my ears with a performance on their various instruments. There was the
drum, or “ganga”, very much like our own instrument of that kind, and of
about the same size as the common regimental drum; the long wind
instrument, or “pampámme;” a shorter one, a sort of flute, or
“elgaita[9];” a sort of double tambourine, or “kalángo;” a simple
tympanum, or “kóso;” a sort of double Egyptian darabúka, called “jójo,”
and a small horn, or “kafó.” The most common among them is the “jójo,”
which in Háusa is the chief instrument made use of in an expedition,
and, if accompanied by the voice, is not disagreeable. With these
various instruments the well-mounted horsemen made a pretty good noise;
but it was neither harmonious nor characteristic—to all this pompous
imitative music I prefer a few strains with natural feeling by a
solitary maimólo. I was obliged to reward my entertainers with a large
quantity of cloves, as I had scarcely anything else left.
I was rather astonished to hear that the Ásbenáwa do not pay passage-
money to the governor according to the number of their camels, but that
every freeman among them makes him a present of one kántu of salt. For
every beast of burden, be it pack-ox or donkey, five hundred kurdí are
generally paid.
[Sidenote: Thursday, January 23rd.]
Having assorted such a present as I could afford, I protested once more
to Elaíji that, my other luggage having gone on in advance to Kanó, I
had but very little to offer the governor.
I went about noon with my protector and a great number of Ásbenáwa to
offer the governor my compliments and my present. Sitting down under a
tree at a considerable distance from the spot where he himself was
seated, we waited a little, till we should be called into his presence,
when his brother, who held the office of ghaladíma, came to us—a man of
immense corpulency, resembling a eunuch. Indeed nothing but the cut of
his face, his aquiline nose, and rather light colour, and the little
goatlike beard which ornamented his chin, could expose him to the
suspicion of being a Púllo or Ba-Féllanchi.[10] He wanted to treat my
business apart from that of Elaíji, who, however, declared that he had
come only for my sake. While the fat ghaladíma was returning to inform
his brother of what he had heard, a troop of well-mounted Kél-esárar[11]
(who, as I was told, are settled at present in the province of Kátsena)
came up at full speed. It was not long before a servant came from the
serkí, inviting me alone into his presence.
Mohammed Béllo Yeríma, the eldest son of the former well-known governor
Mʿallem Ghomáro[12] was seated under a wide-spreading and luxuriant
tamarind-tree, dressed simply in a large white shirt with a black ráwani
round his face. The Ásbenáwa, who formed a large semicircle around him,
were dressed most gaudily. Stepping into the opening of the semicircle,
I saluted the governor, telling him that as I and my companions had
lost, on the border of Ásben, almost all the valuable property we had
brought with us, and as the few things left to me had gone on to Kanó,
he ought to excuse me for being unable at the present moment to offer
him a present worthy of his high position, that it was my desire to go
on without delay to Kanó, in order to settle my affairs, and to proceed
to Bórnu, where we expected to receive fresh supplies, after which one
of our party certainly would go to Sókoto, in order to pay our respects
to the Emír el Múmenín. The governor answered my address with much
apparent kindness, telling me that I was now in his “imána,” or under
his protection, and that he had no other purpose but to do what would be
conducive to my advantage. He then asked the news of my companions,
though he knew all about them, and did not appear to take the least
offence at Mr. Overweg’s going to Marádi, although the people and the
ruler of that place were his most inveterate enemies. But things must
not be looked upon here as they would be in Europe; for here people are
accustomed to see strangers from the north pay visits to all sorts of
princes, whatever may be their policy. However, while he spoke in rather
friendly terms to me, and while my presents were received thankfully by
the servants, he declared to the people who were sitting near him, that
as the ruler of Bórnu had laid hold of one of my companions, and that of
Marádi of the other, he should be a fool if he were to let me pass out
of his hands. I therefore took leave of him with no very light heart.
My present consisted of two fine red caps, a piece of printed calico
which I had bought in Múrzuk for four Spanish dollars, but which was of
a pattern not much liked in Sudán, an English razor and scissors, one
pound of cloves, another of frankincense, a piece of fine soap, and a
packet of English needles. Though it certainly was not a very brilliant
present, yet, considering that I did not want anything from him, it was
quite enough; but the fact was, that he wanted something more from me,
and therefore it was not sufficient.
Early the following morning, while it was still dark, a servant of the
governor came with Elaíji to my tent, requesting me to stay voluntarily
behind the caravan. Though this would have been the best plan, had I
known that the governor had set his heart upon keeping me back, yet I
could not well assent to it, as I had nothing at all with me, not even
sufficient to keep me and my people for a short time from starving. I
therefore told them that it was impossible for me to stay behind, and
prepared to go on with the caravan which was setting out. This, however,
Elaíji would not allow me to do, but while all the divisions of the aïri
started one after the other, he himself remained behind with several of
the principal men of the caravan, till Háj Bel-Ghét came and announced
that it was necessary for me to go to the town, there to await the
decision of the governor. Seeing that nothing was to be done but to
obey, and having in vain shown my letter of recommendation from the
sultan of Ágades, from which, as I had feared from the beginning,
nothing was inferred but that I had been directly forwarded by him to
the governor of Kátsena in order to see me safe to Sókoto, I took leave
of Elaíji, thanking him and his friends for their trouble, and followed
Bel-Ghét and his companion Músa into the town.
The immense mass of the wall, measuring in its lower part not less than
thirty feet, and its wide circumference, made a deep impression upon me.
The town (if town it may be called) presented a most cheerful rural
scene, with its detached light cottages, and its stubble-fields shaded
with a variety of fine trees; but I suspect that this ground was not
entirely covered with dwellings even during the most glorious period of
Kátsena. We travelled a mile and a half before we reached the “zínsere,”
a small dwelling used by the governor as a place of audience—on account,
as it seems, of a splendid wide-spreading fig-tree growing close to it,
and forming a thick shady canopy sufficient for a large number of
people.
I, however, was conducted to the other side of the building, where a
quadrangular chamber projects from the half-decayed wall, and had there
to wait a long time, till the governor came into town from his new
country-seat. Having at last arrived, he called me, and, thanking me for
remaining with him, he promised that I should be well treated as his
guest, and that without delay a house should be placed at my disposal.
He was a man of middle age, and had much in his manners and features
which made him resemble an actor; and such he really is, and was still
more so in his younger days.
Taking leave of him for the present, I followed Bel-Ghét to my quarters;
but we had still a good march to make, first through detached dwellings
of clay, then leaving the immense palace of the governor on our left,
and entering what may be strictly called the town, with connected
dwellings. Here I was lodged in a small house opposite the spacious
dwelling of Bel-Ghét; and though on first entering I found it almost
insupportable, I soon succeeded in making myself tolerably comfortable
in a clean room neatly arranged. It seemed to have once formed the snug
seat for a well-furnished harím; at least the dark passages leading to
the interior could not be penetrated by a stranger’s eye. We had
scarcely taken possession of our quarters, when the governor sent me a
ram and two ox-loads of corn—one of “dáwa” and the other of “géro.” But
instead of feeling satisfied with this abundant provision, we were quite
horrified at it, as I with my three people might have subsisted a whole
year on the corn sent us; and we began to have uneasy forebodings of a
long detention. Indeed we suspected, and were confirmed in our suspicion
by the statements of several people, that it was the governor’s real
intention to forward me directly to Sókoto, a circumstance which
alienated from me my servants—even the faithful Mohammed el Gatróni, who
was much afraid of going there.
However, my new protector, Bel-Ghét, did not leave me much time for
reflection, but soon came back to take me again to the governor. Having
sat awhile in the cool shade of the tree, we were called into his
audience-room, which was nothing more than the round hut or dérne
(“zaure” in Kanúri) which generally forms the entrance and passage-room
in every Púllo establishment. Besides myself, the háj Bel-Ghét, and his
constant companion Músa, there was also the wealthy merchant Háj Wáli,
whom I had seen in Tasáwa, when he tried to persuade me to follow the
men sent to take me to Zínder, while he now sought to represent the
governor of Kátsena as the greatest man in all Negroland, and the best
friend I could have. The governor soon began to display his talent as an
actor, and had the unfortunate letter from the sultan of Ágades read,
interpreted, and commented upon. According to the sagacious
interpretation of these men, the purport of the letter was to recommend
me expressly to this governor as a fit person to be detained in his
company. All my representations to the effect that my friend ʿAbd el
Káder had recommended me in exactly the same terms to the governors of
Dáura and Kanó, and that I had forwarded a letter from Ágades to the
Emír el Múmenín in Sókoto, informing him that as soon as we had received
new supplies from the coast, one of us at least would certainly pay him
a visit, which under present circumstances, robbed and destitute as we
were, we could not well do, were all in vain; he had an answer for every
objection, and was impudent enough to tell me that a message had been
received from Marádi, soliciting me to go thither; that as Bórnu had
laid hold of one of my companions, and Marádi of the other, so he would
lay hold of me, but of course only in order to become my benefactor (“se
al khére”). Seeing that reply was useless, and that it was much better
to let this lively humourist go through his performance, and to wait
patiently for the end of the comedy, I took leave of him, and returned
to my quarters.
Late in the evening the governor sent for Mohammed, who could scarcely
be expected, with his fiery and inconsiderate behaviour, to improve the
state of things; and as the governor’s dwelling was a good way off, and
the town ill-frequented, I was obliged to allow him to go armed with a
pair of pistols, which soon attracted the attention of our host, who
complained bitterly that while all the petty chiefs had received from us
such splendid presents, he, the greatest man in Negroland, had got
nothing. Mohammed having told him that the pistols belonged to me, he
wanted me to present them to him; but this I obstinately refused, as I
was convinced that the whole success of our further proceedings depended
on our fire-arms.
I was rather glad when El Wákhshi called upon me the following morning,
as I trusted he might help me out of the scrape. After conversing with
him about my situation, I went out with him to stroll about the town. We
had gone, however, but a little way when Bel-Ghét saw us, and
reprimanded me severely for going out without asking his permission.
Growing rather warm at such humiliating treatment, I told him, in very
plain terms, that as long as the governor refrained from posting
soldiers before my door, I would regard myself as a free man, and at
liberty to go where I chose. Seeing that he could not wreak his anger
directly upon me, he tried to do it indirectly, by reprimanding my
companion for going about with this “káfer,” and confirming the “káfer”
in his refractoriness against the will of the sultan. Not feeling much
honoured with the title thus bestowed on me, I told him that as yet
nobody in the whole town had insulted me with that epithet, but that he
alone had the insolence to apply it. When the miserable fellow saw me
irritated, he did not hesitate to declare that though well versed in the
Kurán, he had been entirely unaware of the meaning of “káfer,” and
begged me to give him full information about the relations of the
English to the various Mohammedan states. When I came to speak about
Morocco, he interrupted me, as, being a native of Gurára, he might be
presumed to know the relations of those countries better than I did; and
he insisted that the English were not on good terms with the emperor of
Morocco, and were not allowed to visit Fás (Fez). I then declared to him
that there could scarcely be a more unmistakeable proof of the friendly
relations existing between the English and Mulʿa ʿAbd e’ Rahmán than the
present of four magnificent horses, which the latter had lately sent to
the Queen of England. He then confessed that he was more of an
antiquarian, and ignorant of the present state of matters; but he was
quite sure that during the time of Mulʿa Ismʿaíl it certainly was as he
had stated. To this I replied, that while all the Mohammedan states,
including Morocco, had since that time declined in power, the
Christians, and the English in particular, had made immense steps in
advance. We then shook hands, and I left the poor Moslim to his own
reflections.
Proceeding with El Wákhshi on our intended promenade, and laughing at
the scrape into which he had almost got by changing (in the dispute with
Bel-Ghét) the honorary title of the latter, “Sultán ben e’ Sultán”
(Sultan son of Sultan), into that of “Shitán ben e’ Shitán” (Satan son
of Satan), we went to the house of a Ghadámsi, where we found several
Arab and native merchants collected together, and among them a Ghadámsi
who bore the same name as that which, for more friendly intercourse with
the natives, I had adopted on these journeys, namely, that of ʿAbd el
Kerím. This man had accompanied ʿAbd Allah (Clapperton) on his second
journey from Kanó to Sókoto, and was well acquainted with all the
circumstances attending his death. He was greatly surprised to hear that
“Ríshar” (Richard Lander), whom he had believed to be a younger brother
of Clapperton, had not only successfully reached the coast, after his
circuitous journey to Danróro, and after having been dragged back by
force from his enterprising march upon Fanda, but had twice returned
from England to those quarters before he fell a victim to his arduous
exertions.
I then returned with my old Ghadámsi friend to my lodgings, when Bel-
Ghét came soon after us, and once more begged my pardon for having
called me “káfer.”