an inhabitant of the village, who undertook to show us the direct road,
which passes on its south side. He represented the road which we were
about to take as much infested by the Kindín or Tawárek at that moment;
and he advised us, as we went on from one place to another, to make
strict inquiries as to the safety of the road before us. With this well-
meant advice he left us to our own discretion; and I pursued my way with
the unsatisfactory feeling that it might be again my fate to come into
too close contact with my friends the Tawárek, whom I had been so glad
to get rid of. Saddened with these reflections, my two young companions
also seeming a little oppressed, and trudging silently along with the
camels, we reached Aláune, once a considerable town, but now almost
deserted, and surrounded by a clay wall in a state of great decay.
Accosting the people, who were just drawing water from the well inside
the wall, and asking them about the state of the road, we were told
that, as far as Kashímma, it was safe; but beyond that they pronounced
it decidedly dangerous. We therefore continued our march with more
confidence, particularly as we met some market-people coming from
Kashímma.
Aláune is the same place which, by the members of the last expedition,
has been called Kabshári, from the name of the then governor of the
town—Bu-Bakr-Kabshári—after whom the place is even at present often
called “bílla Kabshári_be_” (the town of Kabshári). Keeping on through a
country partly cultivated, partly covered with thick underwood, which
was full of locusts, we were greatly delighted by obtaining at about
eight o’clock a view of a fine sheet of water, in the dale before us,
surrounded with a luxuriant vegetation, and descended cheerfully towards
its shore, where two magnificent tamarind-trees spread their canopy-like
foliage over a carpet of succulent turf. While enjoying this beautiful
picture, I was about to allow my poor horse a little feed of the grass,
when a woman, who had come to fetch water, told me that it was very
unwholesome.
This is the great komádugu of Bórnu, the real name of which is “komádugu
Wáube,” while, just from the same mistake which has caused Aláune to be
called Kabshári, and the river of Zyrmi, Zyrmi, it has been called Yeou;
for though it may be called the river of Yeou, or rather of Yó,
particularly in its lower course, where it passes the town of this name,
it can never be called “the river Yó,” any more than the Thames, on
account of its flowing through London, can be called the river London.
While ordering ʿAbd-Alla to follow with the camels along the lower road,
I ascended with Mohammed the steep slope of the sandy swell, rising to
about three hundred feet, on the top of which Kashímma is situated in a
fine healthy situation commanding the whole valley. It is an open place,
consisting entirely of huts made of corn-stalks and reeds, but is of
considerable size and well inhabited. However, I was not disposed to
make any halt here; and learning, to my great satisfaction, that no
Kindín had been seen as far as the Eastern Ngurútuwa, I determined to go
on as fast as possible, and persuaded a netmaker to point out clearly to
me the road which we were to take; for we had now rather difficult
ground before us—the wide bottom of the valley, with its thick forest
and its several watery channels.
The path led us gradually down from the eminence upon which Kashímma is
situated, into the bushy dale with a great quantity of ngílle, and also
a few dúm-palms. Here we saw numerous foot-prints of the elephant, and
some of enormous size; and truly the wanderer cannot be surprised that
this colossal animal has taken possession of these beautiful, luxuriant
shores of the komádugu, from which the native in his inborn laziness has
despairingly retired, and allowed them to be converted into an almost
impenetrable jungle. The thicket became for a while very dense, a real
jungle, such as I had not yet seen in Negroland, when a clearer spot
followed, overgrown with tall coarse grass ten feet high, fed by the
water which after the rainy season covers the whole of this low ground,
and offering a rich pasture to the elephant. Then we had to traverse a
branch of the real komádugu, at present very shallow, but at times to be
crossed only with the aid of a “mákara.” In the thick covert which
bordered upon this channel the dúm-palm was entirely predominant.
Though the thicket was here so dense, the path was well trodden, but as
soon as we reached a place which had been cleared for cultivation we
lost all traces of it, and then turned off to our right, where we saw a
small village and a farm situated in the most retired spot imaginable.
Here we found a cheerful old man, the master of the farm, who, on
hearing that we too were going eastwards, begged us, very urgently, to
spend the remainder of the day in his company, adding that he would
treat us well and start early the next morning with us for Ngurútuwa;
but however delightful it might appear to me to dream away half a day in
this wilderness, my anxiety to reach Kúkawa compelled me to reject his
proposal. However, the thicket became so dense, that we had the utmost
difficulty in getting my bulky luggage through it.
Having made a short halt about noon to refresh ourselves and our
animals, we continued our march through the forest, which here consisted
principally of dúm-palms, farʿaón, kálgo, talha-trees, and a little
siwák or _Capparis sodata_. The ground was covered with the heavy
footprints of the elephant, and even at this season it retained many
ponds in the channel-like hollows. A solitary maráya or mohhor
(_Antilope Soemmeringii_) bounded through the thicket; indeed antelopes
of any species are rare in these quarters, and on the whole road I had
seen but a single gazelle, near the village Díggere-báre. But it seems
remarkable that from the description of the natives there cannot be the
least doubt that that large and majestic variety of antelope called
_addax_, which is very much like a large stag, is occasionally found
here. A fine open space with rich pastures and with hurdle-inclosures
interrupted the thicket for about a mile, after which we had to traverse
another thick covert, and emerging from it were agreeably surprised at
beholding a lake of considerable dimensions on our left, and after a
short interval another still more considerable approaching from the
north and turning eastward, its surface furrowed by the wind and
hurrying along in little billows which dashed upon the shore. On its
eastern side lie the ruins of the celebrated town Ghámbarú, which
although not the official residence of the kings of Bórnu, was
nevertheless their favourite retreat during the flourishing period of
the empire; and those two lakes, although connected with the komádugu
and fed by it, were artificial basins, and seem to have considerable
depth; else they could scarcely have presented such a magnificent sheet
of water at this season of the year.
But at present all this district, the finest land of Bórnu in the proper
sense of the word, which once resounded with the voices and bustle of
hundreds of towns and villages, has become one impenetrable jungle, the
domain of the elephant and the lion, and with no human inhabitants
except a few scattered herdsmen or cattle-breeders, who are exposed
every moment to the predatory inroads of the Tawárek. This condition of
the finest part of the country is a disgrace to its present rulers, who
have nothing to do but to transfer hither a few hundreds of their lazy
slaves, and establish them in a fortified place, whereupon the natives
would immediately gather round them and change this fine country along
the komádugu from an impenetrable jungle into rich fields, producing not
only grain but also immense quantities of cotton and indigo.
The town of Ghámbarú was taken and destroyed by the Jemáʿa of the Fúlbe
or Felláta at the same time with Ghasréggomo, or Bírni, in the year of
the Héjra 1224, or 1809 of our era, and has not been since reoccupied,
so that the ruins are thickly overgrown and almost enveloped in the
forest. Although I had not leisure to survey attentively the whole area
of the town, I could not help dismounting and looking with great
interest at a tolerably well preserved building, evidently part of a
mosque, at the south-eastern corner of the wall. I knew, from the report
of the last expedition, that there were here remains of brick buildings;
but I did not expect to find the workmanship so good. The bricks are
certainly not so regularly-shaped as in Europe, but in other respects
they seemed quite as good. It is indeed a source of mournful reflection
for the traveller to compare this solid mode of building practised in
former times in this country, at least by its rulers, with the frail and
ephemeral architecture of the present day; but this impression of
retrograding power and resources is caused also by the history of the
country, which we shall soon lay before our readers. Even in the half-
barbarous country of Bagírmi we may still find the remains of very
extensive brick buildings.
Overtaking the two young companions of my adventurous journey, I
travelled on through an interesting but wild country, when at five
o’clock in the afternoon a branch of the river once more approached on
our left, and soon cut across our path, leaving no trace of it. I felt
sure that the track crossed the river here, but unfortunately allowed
myself to be overruled by my servant (who was in truth an experienced
lad); and accordingly we kept along the sandy border of the channel,
following the traces of cattle till we became assured that there was no
path in this place. Having searched for about two hours, we were at last
compelled, by the darkness which had set in, to encamp in the midst of
this dense forest; and I chose a small hillock on the border of the
river, in order to protect myself, as well as possible, from the noxious
exhalations, and spread my tent over my luggage, in the midst of which I
arranged my bed. I then strewed, in a circle round our little
encampment, dry wood and other fuel, to be kindled in case of an attack
of wild beasts, and, taking out a parcel of cartridges, prepared for the
worst. However, we passed a quiet night, disturbed only by the roaring
of a lion on the other side of the river, and by a countless multitude
of waterfowl of various species, playing and splashing about in the
water the whole night.
[Sidenote: Saturday, March 29th.]
Having convinced myself that the river could be crossed by the path only
at the place where we first came upon it, I mounted early in the
morning, after we had loaded the camels, and returned to that spot,
when, having crossed the stream, I found the continuation of the path on
the other side. At length we were again _en route_, having lost
altogether about three hours of our precious time. However, my
companions thought that nevertheless we should not have been able the
previous evening, in the twilight, to reach the next station, the name
of which is also Ngurútuwa; so dense was the forest in some places, and
such difficulty had we in getting through with our luggage, so that we
were at times almost reduced to despair.
Beyond the village mentioned we should not have succeeded in finding an
outlet, had we not met with some shepherds who were tending numerous
flocks of sheep and goats. All was one thorny covert, where kaña and
bírgim, the African plum-tree, were, together with mimosa, the
predominant trees. Near the village, however, which lies in the midst of
the forest, very fine fields of wheat occupied a considerable open
space, the corn standing now about a foot and a half high, and presented
a most charming sight, particularly when compared with the scanty
industry which we had hitherto observed in this, the finest part of the
country.
Keeping then close to the narrow path, we reached, half an hour before
noon, an open place of middle size called Míkibá, and halted between the
village and the well, which, being in a hollow, is only three fathoms
deep. Being obliged to allow the camels a good feed, as they had got
nothing the previous evening, we did not start again till four o’clock
in the afternoon; and it was in vain that I endeavoured to buy some
provisions from the inhabitants with the few indifferent articles which
I had to offer them: the small fancy wares of Nuremberg manufacture
proved too worthless and frail even for these barbarians. The people,
however, endeavoured to frighten us by their accounts of the roads
before us—and indeed, as it afterwards appeared, they were not quite
wrong; but we could not stay a night with people so inhospitable, and,
besides, I had lost already too much time.
Confiding, therefore, in my good luck, I was again in the saddle by four
o’clock, the country being now clearer of wood, though generally in a
wild, neglected state. After a little more than two miles’ march, near a
patch of cultivated ground I saw a group of three monkeys of the same
species, apparently, as those in Ásben. In general, monkeys seem not to
be frequent in the inhabited parts of Negroland. The day with its
brightness was already fading away, and darkness setting in filled us
with anxiety as to where we might pass the night with some security,
when, to our great delight, we observed in the distance to our right the
light of some fires glittering through a thicket of dúm-palms,
tamarinds, and other large trees. We endeavoured, therefore, to open a
path to them, cheered in our effort by the pleasing sound of dance and
song which came from the same direction.
It proved to be a wandering company of happy herdsmen, who bade us a
hearty welcome after they had recognized us as harmless travellers; and,
well satisfied at seeing our resolution thus rewarded, we pitched our
tent in the midst of their huts and numerous herds. Entering then into
conversation with them, I learnt to my astonishment that they were
neither Kanúri nor Háusa people, but Felláta, or Fúlbe of the tribe of
the Óbore[51], who, notwithstanding the enmity existing between their
kinsmen and the ruler of Bórnu, are allowed to pasture their herds here
in full security, so far as they are able to defend themselves against
the robberies of the Tawárek, and without even paying any tribute to the
sheikh. However, their immigration into this country does not date from
very ancient times; and they appear not to have kept their stock pure
from intermixture, so that they have lost almost all the national marks
of the Fulfúlde race.
They seemed to be in easy circumstances, the elder men bringing me each
of them an immense bowl of milk, and a little fresh butter as cleanly
prepared as in any English or Swiss dairy. This was a substantial proof
of their nationality; for all over Bórnu no butter is prepared except
with the dirty and disgusting addition of some cow’s urine, and it is
all in a fluid state. The hospitable donors were greatly delighted when
I gave to each of them a sailor’s knife; but on our part we were rather
perplexed by their bounty, as I and my two boys might easily have
drowned ourselves in such a quantity of milk. Meanwhile, as I was
chatting with the old people, the younger ones continued their singing
and dancing till a late hour with a perseverance most amusing, though
little favourable for our night’s rest; moreover, we were startled
several times by some of the cattle, which lay close to our tent,
starting up occasionally and running furiously about. There was a lion
very near; but the blaze of the fires kept him off. Our friends did not
possess a single dog—but this was another mark of nationality; they rely
entirely upon their own watchfulness.
In consequence of our disturbed night’s rest, we set out at rather a
late hour, accompanied by two of our friends, in order to show us the
ford of the komádugu, which, they told us, ran close to their
encampment. And it was well that we had their assistance; for though the
water was but three feet deep at the spot where they led us through, it
was much deeper on both sides, and we might easily have met with an
accident. It was here about five and thirty yards across, and was quite
stagnant. It is, doubtless, the same water which I had crossed at
Kashímma, where, with its several branches, it occupied an immense
valley, and again just before I came to the Eastern Ngurútuwa.
Our hospitable friends did not leave us till they had assisted us
through the extremely dense covert which borders the eastern bank of the
river. They then returned, recommending us very strongly to be on our
guard, as we should have the komádugu always on our left, where some
robbers were generally lurking. We had not proceeded far when we met an
archer on horseback following the traces of a band of Tawárek, who, as
he told us, had last night made an attack upon another encampment or
village of herdsmen, but had been beaten off. He pursued his way in
order to make out whether the robbers had withdrawn. An archer on
horseback is an unheard-of thing not only in Bórnu, but in almost all
Negroland, except with the Fúlbe; but even among them it is rare.
Fortunately the country was here tolerably open, so that we could not be
taken by surprise, and we were greatly reassured when we met a troop of
native travellers, three of whom were carrying each a pair of bukhsa or
ngibú, immense calabashes joined at the bottom by a piece of strong
wood, but open on the top.
These are the simple ferry-boats of the country, capable of carrying one
or two persons, who have nothing besides their clothes (which they may
deposit inside the calabashes), safely, but certainly not dryly across a
stream. In order to transport heavier things, three pairs, joined in the
way I shall have an opportunity of describing at another time, will form
a sufficiently buoyant raft. This would form the most useful expedient
for any European traveller who should undertake to penetrate into the
equatorial regions, which abound in water; but if he has much luggage,
he ought to have four pairs of calabashes, and a strong frame to extend
across them.
The great advantage of such a portable boat is, that the parts can be
most easily carried on men’s backs through the most rugged and
mountainous regions, while the raft so formed will be strong enough, if
the parts are well fastened together, for going down a river; but of
course if they came into contact with rocks, the calabashes would be
liable to break. Horses must swim across a river in these countries; but
even their crossing a powerful stream safely would be greatly
facilitated if they were protected against the current by such a float
lying along their sides. On my succeeding journeys I often wished to be
in the possession of such a boat.
Amusing myself with such thoughts, and indulging in happy anticipations
of future discoveries, I continued my solitary march cheerfully and with
confidence. To our left the channel of the komádugu once approached, but
soon receded again and gave way to the site of a considerable deserted
town, containing at present but a small hamlet of cattle-breeders, and
called significantly “fáto ghaná” (few huts). This was the site of the
celebrated town of Dámasak. The country was here adorned with trees of
fine foliage, and was enlivened besides by large flocks of goats and
sheep, and by a small caravan which we fell in with. We then passed, on
our right, a considerable pool of stagnant water, apparently caused by
the overflowing of the komádugu, and further on observed a few patches
of cotton-ground well fenced and protected from the cattle. Then
followed stubble-fields adorned with fine trees, in the shade of which
the cattle reposed in animated groups. The soil consisted of sand, and
was burrowed throughout in large holes by the earth-hog (_Orycteropus
Æthiopicus_).
Thus about half-past ten we reached the neat little village Ájirí, and
encamped at a short distance from it, under a cluster of beautiful and
shady tamarind-trees, not knowing that, as the cemetery of some
venerated persons, it was a sanctified place; however, on being informed
of this circumstance, we were careful not to pollute it. I now learned
that I had not followed the shortest track to Kúkawa, which passes by
Kamsándi, but that Yusuf (Mr. Richardson’s interpreter), with the
Christian’s property, had also taken this road. I might therefore have
pursued my journey directly to that residence, and should have had the
company of a corn-caravan, which was about to set forward in the
afternoon; but as it was absolutely necessary that I should send word to
the sheikh that I was coming, and as there was no other governor or
officer on the track before me from whom I might obtain a decent and
trustworthy messenger, I preferred going a little more out of my way in
order to visit the Kashélla Khér-Alla, an officer stationed by the
sheikh in the most exposed place of this district, in order to protect
it against the inroads of the Tawárek.
Having, therefore, taken a hearty leave of the villagers, who had all
collected round me, listening with astonishment and delight to the
performance of my musical box, I started again at an early hour in the
afternoon, accompanied, for a little while, by the bíllama, and
continuing in a north-easterly direction. The country in general
presented nothing but pasture-grounds, with only some cultivation of
grain and patches of cotton-fields near the hamlet Yerálla, which, after
a little more than three miles, we passed on our left. Further on the
komádugu again approached on the same side; and we were obliged to go
round it in a sharp angle to reach the village where the Kashélla had
his residence.
Having pitched the tent, I went to pay him my compliments, and had the
satisfaction to find him a friendly, cheerful person, who at once
ordered one of his best men to mount and to start for Kúkawa, in order
to carry to the vizier the news of my arrival. He is a liberated slave,
who, having distinguished himself by his valour in the unfortunate
battle at Kúsuri, has been stationed here at the vizier’s suggestion.
His power, however, is not great, considering the wide extent of the
district which he has to protect, as he has only seventy horsemen under
his command, twenty of whom are constantly employed in watching the
motions of the predatory bands of the Tawárek. These are chiefly the
inhabitants of the little principality of Alákkos, of which I have had
occasion to speak above, who, like all the Tawárek, in general are not
very fond of serious fighting, but rather try to carry off a good booty,
in slaves or cattle, by surprise. Khér-Alla has already done a great
deal for the security and welfare of the district where he resides, the
population of which is intermixed with Tébu elements, and cannot be
trusted; but he evidently cannot extend his protecting hand much further
westward than Ájiri.
Feeling deeply the disgraceful state of this, the finest portion of
Bórnu, I afterwards advised the vizier to build watch-towers all along
the komádugu, from the town Yó as far as the western Ngurútuwa, the
place where Mr. Richardson died, which would make it easy to keep off
the sudden inroads of those predatory tribes, and, in consequence, the
whole country would become the secure abode of a numerous population;
but even the best of these mighty men cares more for the silver
ornaments of his numerous wives than for the welfare of his people.
I presented Khér-Alla with a red cap, a pair of English scissors, and
some other small things; and he spent the whole evening in my tent,
listening with delight to the cheerful Swiss air played by my musical
box.
[Sidenote: Monday, March 31st.]
At a tolerably early hour, I set out to continue my march, accompanied
by a younger brother and a trusty servant of the kashélla, both on
horseback, and traversed the entire district. It is called Dúchi, and is
well inhabited in a great number of widely-scattered villages. The soil
is sandy, and corn-fields and pasture-grounds succeed each other
alternately; but I did not see much cattle. I was astonished also to
find so little cultivation of cotton. Having met a small troop of
tugúrchi with pack-oxen, we made a halt, a little after eleven o’clock,
near the first village of the district, Dímberwá.