life of an individual, but the whole fate of the mission; and though
some room was left for doubt, yet in the first moment of excitement, I
resolved to leave my two young men behind with the camels, and to hurry
on alone on horseback. But Mohammed would not hear of this proposal; and
indeed as I certainly could not reach Kúkawa in less than four days, and
as part of the road was greatly infested by the Tawárek, such an attempt
might have exposed me to a great deal of inconvenience. But we
determined to go on as fast as the camels would allow us. We halted at
eleven o’clock, shaded by the trunk of an immense leafless monkey-bread-
tree, a little behind the walled place Kábi, the southern quarter of
which is alone inhabited, and where our friends the Tébu had encamped.
Starting then together with them at two o’clock in the afternoon, we
took the road by Déffowa, leaving on our right that which passes Donári,
the country now assuming a more hospitable and very peculiar character.
For here begins a zone characterized by sandy downs from 100 to 120 feet
high, and exhibiting on their summits a level plain of excellent arable
soil, but with few trees, while the dells separating these downs one
from the other, and which often wind about in the most anomalous manner,
are in general richly overgrown with a rank vegetation, among which the
dúm-palm and the dúm-bush are predominant. This curious formation, I
fancy, has some connection with the great lagoon, which in a former
period must have been of much greater extent.
The intercourse on the road this afternoon was exceedingly animated; and
one motley troop followed another,—Háusa fatáki, Bórnu traders or
“tugúrchi,” Kánembú Tébu, Shúwa Arabs, and others of the roving tribe of
the Welád Slimán, all mixed together,—while their beasts of burden
formed a multifarious throng of camels, oxen, horses, and asses. The
Welád Slimán, who were bringing camels for sale to the market of Kanó,
were greatly frightened when I told them what had happened to their
brethren near Kúka mairuá, as they were conscious that most of the
camels now with them were of the number of those which two years ago had
been taken from the Kél-owí in Bílma.
As evening came on, the dells which we had to traverse were thronged
with thousands of wild pigeons, carrying on their amorous play in the
cool twilight of approaching night. All was silent, with the exception
of a distant hum, becoming more and more distinct as we wound along the
side of an exuberant meandering valley. The noise proceeded from the
considerable town of Déffowa, which we reached at a quarter past seven
o’clock, and encamped at a little distance to the north. Lively music
never ceased in the town till a late hour.
[Sidenote: Tuesday, March 25th.]
All was still silent in the place when, early in the morning, I set out
with my little troop to follow the track of our temporary companions the
Tébu. The village was surrounded only by a light thorny fence; but it
seemed to be prosperous and densely inhabited. The country continued
similar in character, but better cultivated than the tract we had
traversed the day before; and the immense multitude of wild pigeons,
which found a secure and pleasant haunt in the rank vegetation of the
hollows, made it necessary to resort to some expedient to keep them off.
High platforms were therefore erected in the fields, in the shade of
some tree; and ropes drawn from them were fastened to poles and coated
with a peculiar vegetable extract, which caused them, if put into motion
by a person stationed upon the platform, to give forth a loud sound,
which kept the birds at a respectful distance.
We saw here also a small cotton-field. If the country were more densely
inhabited and the people more industrious and better protected by their
slave-hunting governors, all the lowlands and valley-like hollows, which
during the rainy season form so many water-channels, and retain a great
degree of moisture during the whole year, would afford the most splendid
ground for this branch of cultivation.
The repeated ascent and descent along steep slopes of deep sandy soil
more than a hundred feet high was very fatiguing for the camels. While
ascending one of these ridges, we had a very charming view over the
whole of the neat little village of Kálowa, lying along the slope and in
the hollow to our left. It was rather small, containing about two
hundred huts, but every yard was shaded by a korna or bíto-tree
(_Balanites_); and comfort (according to the wants felt by the natives)
and industry were everywhere manifested. In the midst was a large open
space, where the cattle were collecting round the wells to be watered,
while the people were drawing water to fill the large round hollows,
“kéle nkíbe,” made with little clay walls to serve as troughs. The
blacksmith was seen busy at his simple work, making new hoes for the
approaching season; the weaver was sitting at his loom; several were
making mats of reed; some women were carrying water from the wells, some
spinning or cleaning the cotton, while others pounded corn for their
daily consumption. The little granaries, in order to preserve the stock
of corn from the danger of conflagration, which every moment threatens
these light structures of straw and reed, were erected on the sandy
level near the edge of the slope. Even the fowls had their little
separate abodes, also of reed, very thrifty and neat, as the
accompanying woodcut will show. Such was the simple but nevertheless
cheerful picture which this little village exhibited. My two boys were a
long way ahead of me when I awoke from my reverie and followed them.
[Illustration]
It was shortly before we came to this village that we passed the
enormous skeleton of an elephant,—the first trace of this animal which I
had seen since Gazáwa (I mean the independent pagan place of that name
between Tasáwa and Kátsena). The road was frequented; early in the
morning we had met a party of tugúrchi with pack-oxen, who had been
travelling a great part of the night, as they generally do, on account
of this beast of burden bearing the heat of the day very badly. About an
hour’s march beyond Kálowa we met a party of horsemen coming from
Kúkawa; and as their head man appeared to be an intelligent person, I
approached him, and asked him the news of the place. He most probably
took me for an Arab, and told me that all was well, but that the
Christian who had been coming from a far distant country to pay his
compliments to the sheikh had died, more than twenty days ago, in a
place called Ngurútuwa, before reaching Kúkawa. There could now be no
more doubt of the sad event; and with deep emotion I continued my march,
praying to the Merciful to grant me better success than had fallen to
the lot of my companion, and to strengthen me, that I might carry out
the benevolent and humane purposes of our mission.
This district also has a very scanty supply of water; and it took us
more than half an hour to collect, from four wells near another small
village, a sufficient supply for my horse; but as to filling our
waterskins, it was not to be thought of. The wells were ten fathoms
deep. We halted half an hour before noon, not far from another well, at
the foot of a sandy swell upon which the little village “Mʿallem
Kerémerí” is situated. Here, as well as in the village passed in the
morning, we could not obtain beans, though the cultivation of them is in
general carried on to a great extent; but this district seemed to
produce millet or _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_ almost exclusively—at least no
sorghum was to be seen. Keeping generally along a hollow, which however
was not much depressed, and which consisted of arable sandy soil with a
few bushes and trees, we reached the little town or village Dunú,
surrounded with a ditch and earthen wall in decay, so that the gate had
become useless. There was a large open space inside, and as the
inhabitants, who gave us a very cheerful welcome, advised us not to
encamp outside, on account of the number of wild beasts infesting the
neighbourhood, we pitched the tent inside the wall.
We might have passed a very comfortable evening with the natives, who
took great interest in me, had it not been for my faithful old companion
the Bu-séfi, the best (or rather the only good one) of my three camels,
which, when it was growing dark, and ʿAbd-Alla went to bring the animals
back from their pasture, could not be found. The careless boy had
neglected to fasten the camel’s legs; and being very hungry, it had gone
in search of better herbage. This was a very disagreeable accident for
me, as I was in the greatest hurry; and my two young lads, who were well
aware of it, went for several hours, accompanied by the inhabitants of
the place, in every direction, through the whole tract where the camels
had been grazing, lighting the ground with torches, but all in vain.
Wearied and exhausted, they returned about midnight and lay down to
sleep, the music and dance also, which the cheerful natives had kept up,
dying away at the same time. About an hour later, being too much excited
from anxiety to obtain sleep, I went out once more to see if all was
right, when I saw my favourite coming slowly along towards the tent; and
on reaching it he laid down by the side of his two inferior companions.
There was no moonlight; the night was very dark; evidently only the
brightness of the well-known white tent guided the “stupid” animal. But
this was no great proof of stupidity; and I am rather afraid that
Europeans often make camels stupid by their own foolish treatment of
them, whereas I was wont to treat this noble animal, which had carried
myself or the heaviest of my things all the way from Tripoli, as a
sensible companion, giving it in the beginning the peel of the oranges I
was eating, of which it was particularly fond, or a few of my dates (for
which it did not fail to turn round its beautiful neck), or granting it
a little extra feed of Negro millet, which it ate like a horse. Rejoiced
at seeing my favourite, the absence of which had created such anxiety,
returning of its own accord to my tent, and lying down near it, I
aroused my servant from his sleep to tell him the joyful news. I wanted
to reward it with some corn, but it had taken such good care of itself,
that it refused its favourite food.
I was much grieved in consequence of being obliged to part with my old
companion; but camels from the coast will not stand the effects of a
rainy season in Negroland. I hoped it would safely return to its native
country; but the Arab who bought it from me, went first to Kanó when the
rainy season was already setting in, and the poor animal died not far
from the place where Mr. Richardson had succumbed. Its fidelity will
ever remain in my memory as one of the pleasantest recollections of my
journey.
Having thus got back our best carrier, though we had lost a good night’s
rest, we started early next morning over the same sort of ground we had
been traversing the last few days, and in two hours reached the little
town of Wádi, the noise from which, caused by the pounding of grain, had
been heard by us at the distance of almost a mile. Indeed the pounding
of grain has betrayed many a little village and many a caravan. The town
is considerable, but properly consists of two different quarters walled
all round, and separated from each other by a wide open space where the
cattle rest in safety. Approving very much of this way of building a
town in these turbulent regions, we kept along the open space, but were
greatly perplexed from the number of paths branching off in every
direction, and scarcely knew which road to take.
It had been my intention originally to go to Borzári, in the hope of
obtaining from the governor of that town a horseman to carry the news of
my approach to the sheikh of Bórnu; but being here informed that I
should be obliged to make a great circuit in order to touch at that
place, I changed my plan, and took another and more direct road, which
in the beginning seemed a well-trodden highroad, but soon became a
narrow footpath, winding along from village to village without any
leading direction. However, we met several small caravans as well of
Arabs, who were going to Kanó, as of native traders or tugúrchi with
natron. Passing now over open cultivated ground, then through a bushy
thicket, we reached, about ten o’clock in the morning, the considerable
open village Kábowa, where a well-frequented and very noisy market was
being held, and halted during the heat of the day under a shady
tamarind-tree about five hundred yards to the south, near a “kaudi” or
“kabéa tseggénabé” (a yard for weaving cotton).
We had scarcely unloaded our camels, when one of the weavers came, and,
saluting me most cordially, begged me to accept of a dish of very well
prepared “fura” or “tiggra,” with curdled milk, which evidently formed
their breakfast. The market was very partially supplied, and did not
furnish what we wanted. Natron, salt, and túrkedi, or the cloth for
female dress made in Kanó, constituted the three articles which were
plentiful; also a good many cattle, or rather pack-oxen, were there,
besides two camels and abundance of the fruit of the dúm-palm; but meat
was dear, onions extremely scarce, and beans not to be got at all, and,
what was worse, the people refused to accept shells (“kúngona” in
Kanúri), of which we had still a small supply, and wanted gábagá, or
cotton stripes, of which we had none. Our camels, therefore, which
hereabouts found plenty of their favourite and nourishing food, the
aghúl or _Hedysarum Alhaggi_, fared much better than we ourselves. The
neighbourhood had rather a dreary aspect; the east wind was very high
and troublesome; the well was distant, and, with a depth of eight
fathoms, did not furnish the supply necessary for the numerous visitors
to the market.
Early in the afternoon we continued our march, first in the company of
some market-people returning to their native village, then left to our
judgment to discriminate, among the numberless footpaths which
intersected the country in every direction, the one which was most
direct or rather least circuitous; for a direct highroad there is none.
We became at length so heartily tired of groping our way alone, that we
attached ourselves to a horseman who invited us to accompany him to his
village, till, becoming aware that it lay too much out of our way, we
ascended the slope of a sandy ridge to our right, on the summit of which
was situated the village Lúshiri, where we pitched our tent.
Here also the inhabitants behaved hospitably; and I had scarcely
dismounted, when a woman from a neighbouring hut brought me a bowl of
ghussub-water as a refreshment. We succeeded also in buying here a good
supply of beans and sorghum—or ngáberi, as it is called in Kanúri; for
my Kátsena horse refused to eat the millet or argúm, and sorghum is very
scarce in all this part of the country as well as in many other
districts of Bórnu, especially in the district of Koyám. The women of
the village, who were very curious to see the interior of my tent, were
greatly surprised to find that I was a bachelor, and without a female
partner, accustomed, as they were, to see travellers in this country, at
least those tolerably at their ease, with a train of female slaves. They
expressed their astonishment in much diverting chat with each other. I
got also milk and a fowl for my supper, and the bíllama afterwards
brought some “ngáji” (the favourite Kanúri dish) for my men. As the
situation of the village was elevated, it was most interesting to see in
the evening the numerous fires of the hamlets and small towns all
around, giving a favourable idea of the local population.
[Sidenote: Thursday, March 27th.]
Early in the morning we continued our march; but we lost a great deal of
time through ignorance of the direct way. Some of the paths appear, at
times, like a well-frequented highroad, when suddenly almost every trace
of them is lost. At length, at the walled town of Gobálgorúm, we learned
that we were on the road to Kashímma; and we determined to keep on as
straight as possible. The country which we traversed early in the
morning consisted of stiff clayey soil, and produced ngáberi; but this
was only a sort of basin of no great extent, and the landscape soon
changed its character. After we had passed Gobálgorúm, the country
became much richer in trees; and this circumstance, as well as the
increased number of waterfowl, indicated plainly that we were
approaching a branch of the wide-spreading net of the komádugu of Bórnu.
First we came to a hollow clothed with a great profusion of vegetation
and the freshest pasturage, but at present dry, with the exception of a
fine pond of clear water on our left; and we marched full three miles
through a dense forest before we came to the real channel, which here,
running south and north, formed an uninterrupted belt of water as far as
the eye could reach, but at present without any current. It looked just
like an artificial canal, having almost everywhere the same breadth of
about fifty yards, and, at the place where we crossed it, a depth of two
feet and a half.
We halted, during the heat of the day, on its eastern shore, in the
shade of one of the small gáwo-trees which border it on this side; and
after our dreary and rather uninteresting march from Kanó, I was greatly
delighted with the animated and luxuriant character of the scene before
us. The water of this komádugu, moreover, though it was fully exposed to
the power of the sun’s rays, was delightfully cool, while that from the
wells was disagreeably warm, having a mean temperature of 77°, and quite
unfit to drink until allowed to cool. The river was full of small fish;
and about twenty boys from the village of Shógo, which lay upon the
summit of the rising ground before us, were plashing about in it in
playful exercise, and catching the fish with a large net of peculiar
make, which they dragged through the water. This komádugu too is called
Wáni; and I think it more probable that this is the continuation of the
branch which passes Katágum, than that the latter joins the branch of
Khadéja to the southward of Zurríkulo.
While we were resting here, I was pestered a little by the curiosity of
a company of gipsy-like Jétko, who, with very little luggage, traverse
the country in every direction, and are the cleverest thieves in the
world. I shall, on another occasion, say something about the settlements
of these people along the komádugu Wáube.
A native of the village, whom we had met on the road, came afterwards,
with his wife, and brought me a dish of well-cooked hasty-pudding; and
on my complaining that, though in great haste, we were losing so much
time, owing to our being unacquainted with the nearest road, he promised
to serve us as a guide: but unfortunately I made him a present too soon;
and as he did not keep his word, we preferred groping our way onwards as
well as possible. Our camels had meanwhile got a good feed in the cool
shade of the trees; for if exposed to the sun, these animals will not
eat during the heat of the day, but prefer lying down.
With fresh spirit and energy we started, therefore, at half-past two in
the afternoon, ascending the considerable slope of the ridge upon which
the village stands. At this hour the sun was very powerful, and none of
the inhabitants were to be seen, with the exception of an industrious
female who, on a clean open spot near the road, was weaving the cotton
threads into gábagá. Opposite the village to the north of the path, was
a round cluster of light Kánembú cottages, formed in a most simple way,
with the long stalks of the native corn bent so as to meet at the top,
and fastened with a few ropes. Descending immediately from this
considerable ridge, we entered a dale thickly overgrown with trees,
where I was greatly astonished to see a herd of cattle watered, with
great trouble, from the wells, while the river was close at hand; but on
addressing the neatherds, I was informed by them that the stagnant water
of the komádugu at this season is very unwholesome for cattle.
All the trees hereabouts were full of locusts, while the air was
darkened by swarms of hawks (_Cenchreis_), which, with a singular
instinct, followed our steps as we advanced; for on our approaching a
tree, the locusts, roused from their fatal repose and destructive
revelling, took to flight in thick clouds, when the birds dashed down to
catch them, often not only beating one another with their wings, but
even incommoding us and our animals not a little.
The peculiar character of lofty sandy ridges and thickly overgrown
hollows continued also in this district; no dúm-palm was to be seen, but
only the dúm-bush, called ngílle by the Bórnu people. About two miles
and a half behind Shógo we passed a wide and most beautiful basin, with
rich pasture-grounds enlivened by numbers of well-fed cattle. Stubble-
fields, with small granaries such as I have described above, were
scattered about here and there. Then keeping on through a more level
country with patches of cultivation, we reached the fields of Bandégo.
The village introduced itself to our notice from afar by the sound of
noisy mirth; and I was surprised to hear that it was occasioned by the
celebration, not of a marriage, but of a circumcision. This was the
first and last time during my travels in Negroland that I saw this
ceremony performed with so much noise.
We were quietly pitching our tent on the east side of the village, and I
was about to make myself comfortable, when I was not a little affected
by learning that the girls, who had been bringing little presents to the
festival, and who were just returning in procession to their homes,
belonged to Ngurútuwa, the very place where the Christian (Mr.
Richardson) had died. I then determined to accompany them, though it was
late, in order to have at least a short glimpse of the “white man’s
grave,” and to see whether it were taken care of. If I had known, before
we unloaded the camels, how near we were to the place, I should have
gone there at once to spend the night.
Ngurútuwa,[50] once a large and celebrated place, but at present
somewhat in decay, lies in a wide and extensive plain, with very few
trees, about two miles N.E. from Bandégo; but the town itself is well
shaded, and has, besides kórna and bíto, some wide-spreading umbrageous
fig-trees, under one of which Mr. Richardson had been buried. His grave,
well-protected with thorn-bushes, appeared to have remained untouched,
and was likely to remain so. The natives were well aware that it was a
Christian who had died here; and they regarded the tomb with reverence.
The story of his untimely end had caused some sensation in the
neighbourhood. He arrived in a weak state in the evening, and early the
next morning he died. The people had taken great interest in the matter;
and the report they gave me of the way in which he was buried agreed in
the main circumstances with that which I afterwards received from his
servants, and of which I forwarded an account from Kúkawa. Unfortunately
I had no means of bestowing gifts on the inhabitants of the place where
my companion had died. I gave, however, a small present to a man who
promised to take especial care of the grave; and I afterwards persuaded
the vizier of Bórnu to have a stronger fence made round it.
It was late in the evening when I returned to my tent engrossed with
reflections on my own probable fate, and sincerely thankful to the
Almighty Ruler of all things for the excellent health which I still
enjoyed notwithstanding the many fatigues which I had undergone. My way
of looking at things was not quite the same as that of my late
companion, and we had therefore often had little differences; but I
esteemed him highly for the deep sympathy which he felt for the
sufferings of the native African, and deeply lamented his death. Full of
confidence I stretched myself upon my mat, and indulged in my simple
supper, accompanied with a bowl of milk which the inhabitants of Bandégo
had brought me. The people were all pleased with us; only the cattle,
when returning from their pastures, took offence at my strange-looking
tent, which I had pitched just in the path by which they were accustomed
to return to their usual resting-place.
[Sidenote: Friday, March 28th.]