of April, in order to spend a day or two in Ngórnu, where he had a
tolerably good house; and, having been invited by the vizier to go
there, I also followed on the morning of the next day. This road to
Ngórnu is strongly marked with that sameness and monotony which
characterize the neighbourhood of Kúkawa. At first nothing is seen but
the melancholy “káwo,” _Asclepias procera_ or _gigantea_; then “ngílle,”
low bushes of _Cucifera_, appear, and gradually trees begin to enliven
the landscape, first scattered here and there, further on forming a sort
of underwood. The path is broad and well-trodden, but consists mostly of
deep sandy soil. There are no villages on the side of the road, but a
good many at a little distance. In the rainy season some very large
ponds are formed by its side. Two miles and a half before the traveller
reaches Ngórnu the trees cease again, being only seen in detached
clusters at a great distance, marking the sites of villages, while near
the road they give way to an immense fertile plain, where beans are
cultivated, besides grain. However, this also is covered at this season
of the year with the tiresome and endless _Asclepias_. Among the sites
of former towns on the east side of the road is that of New Bírni, which
was built by the Sultan Mohammed, when residing in Berberuwá, about the
year 1820, and destroyed by Háj Beshír in the year 1847, and does not
now contain a living soul. Farther on is a group of kitchen-gardens
belonging to some grandees, and adorned with two or three most splendid
tamarind-trees, which in this monotonous landscape have a peculiar
charm.
It was about one o’clock in the afternoon when I entered Ngórnu, the
town of “the blessing.” The heat being then very great, scarcely anybody
was to be seen in the streets; but the houses, or rather yards, were
full of people, tents having been pitched to accommodate so many
visitors, while fine horses looked forth everywhere over the low fences,
saluting us as we passed by. Scarcely a single clay house was to be
seen, with the exception of the house of the sheikh, which lies at the
end of the déndal; but nevertheless the town made the impression of
comfort and ease, and every yard was neatly fenced with new “síggedí”
mats, and well shaded by kórna-trees, while the huts were large and
spacious.
Having in vain presented myself at the house of the vizier, where the
people were all asleep, and wandered about the town for a good while, I
at length took up my quarters provisionally with some Arabs, till the
cool of the afternoon aroused the courtiers from their long midday
slumber, which they certainly may have needed, inasmuch as they had been
up at two o’clock in the morning. But even after I had the good fortune
to see Háj Beshír, I found it difficult to obtain quarters, and I was
obliged to pitch my tent in a courtyard.
Being tired of the crowd in the town, I mounted on horseback early next
morning in order to refresh myself with a sight of the lake, which I
supposed to be at no great distance, and indulged beforehand in
anticipations of the delightful view which I fondly imagined was soon to
greet my eye. We met a good many people and slaves going out to cut
grass for the horses; and leaving them to their work we kept on towards
the rising sun. But no lake was to be seen, and an endless grassy plain
without a single tree extended to the furthest horizon. At length, after
the grass had increased continually in freshness and luxuriance, we
reached a shallow swamp, the very indented border of which, sometimes
bending in, at others bending out, greatly obstructed our progress.
Having struggled for a length of time to get rid of this swamp, and
straining my eyes in vain to discover the glimmering of an open water in
the distance, I at length retraced my steps, consoling myself with the
thought that I had seen at least some slight indication of the presence
of the watery element, and which seemed indeed to be the only thing
which was at present to be seen here.
How different was this appearance of the country from that which it
exhibited in the winter from 1854 to 1855, when more than half of the
town of Ngórnu was destroyed by the water, and a deep open sea was
formed to the south of this place, in which the fertile plain as far as
the village of Kúkiya lay buried. This great change seems to have
happened in consequence of the lower strata of the ground, which
consisted of limestone, having given way in the preceding year, and the
whole shore on this side having sunk several feet; but even without such
a remarkable accident, the character of the Tsád is evidently that of an
immense lagoon, changing its border every month, and therefore incapable
of being mapped with accuracy. Indeed, when I saw to-day the nature of
these swampy lowlands surrounding the lake, or rather lagoon, I
immediately became aware that it would be quite impossible to survey its
shores, even if the state of the countries around should allow us to
enter upon such an undertaking. The only thing possible would be on one
side to fix the furthest limit reached at times by the inundation of the
lagoon, and on the other to determine the extent of the navigable
waters.
Having returned to the town, I related to the vizier my unsuccessful
excursion in search of the Tsád, and he obligingly promised to send some
horsemen to conduct me along the shore as far as Káwa, whence I should
return to the capital.
[Sidenote: Saturday, April 26th.]
The sheikh, with his court, having left Ngórnu before the dawn of day,
on his return to Kúkawa, I sent back my camel, with my two men also, by
the direct road; and then having waited awhile in vain for the promised
escort, I went myself with Bu-Sʿad, to look after it, but succeeded only
in obtaining two horsemen, one of whom was the Kashélla Kótoko, an
amiable, quiet Kánemma chief, who ever afterwards remained my friend,
and the other a horseguard of the sheikh’s, of the name of Sále. With
these companions we set out on our excursion, going north-east; for due
east from the town, as I now learned, the lagoon was at present at more
than ten miles’ distance. The fine grassy plain seemed to extend to a
boundless distance, uninterrupted by a single tree, or even a shrub; not
a living creature was to be seen, and the sun began already to throw a
fiery veil over all around, making the vicinity of the cooling element
desirable. After a little more than half an hour’s ride we reached
swampy ground, and began to make our way through the water, often up to
our knees on horseback. We thus came to the margin of a fine open sheet
of water, encompassed with papyrus and tall reed, of from ten to
fourteen feet in height, of two different kinds, one called “méle,” and
the other “bóre,” or “bóle.” The méle has a white tender core, which is
eaten by the natives, but to me seemed insipid; the bóre has a head like
the common bulrush, and its stalk is triangular. The thicket was
interwoven by a climbing plant with yellow flowers, called “bórbuje” by
the natives, while on the surface of the water was a floating plant
called, very facetiously, by the natives, “fánna-billa-bágo” (the
homeless fánna). This creek was called “Ngíruwá.”
Then turning a little more to the north, and passing still through deep
water full of grass, and most fatiguing for the horses, while it seemed
most delightful to me, after my dry and dreary journey through this
continent, we reached another creek, called “Dímbebér.” Here I was so
fortunate as to see two small boats, or “mákara,” of the Búdduma, as
they are called by the Kanúri, or Yédiná, as they call themselves, the
famous pirates of the Tsád. They were small flat boats, made of the
light and narrow wood of the “fógo,” about twelve feet long, and managed
by two men each; as soon as the men saw us, they pushed their boats off
from the shore. They were evidently in search of human prey; and as we
had seen people from the neighbouring villages, who had come here to cut
reeds to thatch their huts anew for the rainy season, we went first to
inform them of the presence of these constant enemies of the inhabitants
of these fertile banks of the lagoon, that they might be on their guard;
for they could not see them, owing to the quantity of tall reeds with
which the banks and the neighbouring land was overgrown.
We then continued our watery march. The sun was by this time very
powerful; but a very gentle cooling breeze came over the lagoon, and
made the heat supportable. We had water enough to quench our
thirst—indeed more than we really wanted; for we might have often drunk
with our mouth, by stooping down a little, on horseback, so deeply were
we immersed. But the water was exceedingly warm, and full of vegetable
matter. It is perfectly fresh, as fresh as water can be. It seems to
have been merely from prejudice that people in Europe have come to the
conclusion that this Central African basin must either have an outlet,
or must be salt. For I can positively assert that it has no outlet, and
that its water is perfectly fresh. Indeed I do not see from whence
saltness of the water should arise in a district in which there is no
salt at all, and in which the herbage is so destitute of this element,
that the milk of the cows and sheep fed on it is rather insipid, and
somewhat unwholesome. Certainly, in the holes around the lagoon, where
the soil is strongly impregnated with natron, and which are only for a
short time of the year in connection with the lake, the water, when in
small quantity, must savour of the peculiar quality of the soil; but
when these holes are full, the water in them likewise is fresh.
While we rode along these marshy, luxuriant plains, large herds of
“kelára” started up, bounding over the rushes, and sometimes swimming,
at others running, soon disappeared in the distance. This is a peculiar
kind of antelope, which I have nowhere seen but in the immediate
vicinity of the lake. In colour and size it resembles the roe, and has a
white belly. The kelára is by no means slender, but rather bulky, and
extremely fat; this, however, may not be a specific character, but
merely the consequence of the rich food which it enjoys here. It may be
identical with, or be a variety of the _Antilope Arabica_, and the
Arabs, and those of the natives who understand a little Arabic, call
both by the same name, “el áriyel.”
Proceeding onwards, we reached about noon another creek, which is used
occasionally by the Búdduma as a harbour, and is called “Ngúlbeá.” We,
however, found it empty, and only inhabited by ngurútus, or river-
horses, which, indeed, live here in great numbers, snorting about in
every direction, and by two species of crocodiles. In this quarter there
are no elephants, for the very simple reason that they have no place of
retreat during the night; for this immense animal (at least in Africa)
appears to be very sensible of the convenience of a soft couch in the
sand, and of the inconvenience of mosquitoes too; wherefore it prefers
to lie down on a spot a little elevated above the swampy ground, whither
it resorts for its daily food. On the banks of the northern part of the
Tsád, on the contrary, where a range of low sandhills and wood
encompasses the lagoon, we shall meet with immense herds of this animal.
Ngúlbeá was the easternmost point of our excursion; and, turning here a
little west from north, we continued our march over drier pasture-
grounds, placed beyond the reach of the inundation, and, after about
three miles, reached the deeply-indented and well-protected creek called
“Ngómarén.” Here I was most agreeably surprised by the sight of eleven
boats of the Yédiná. Large, indeed, they were considering the ship-
building of these islanders; but otherwise they looked very small and
awkward, and, resting quite flat on the water, strikingly reminded me of
theatrical exhibitions in which boats are introduced on the stage. They
were not more than about twenty feet long[80], but seemed tolerably
broad; and one of them contained as many as eleven people, besides a
good quantity of natron and other things. They had a very low waist, but
rather a high and pointed prow. They are made of the narrow boards of
the fógo-tree, which are fastened together with ropes from the dúm-palm,
the holes being stopped with bast.
The Kánembú inhabitants of many neighbouring villages carry on trade
with the islanders almost uninterruptedly, while elsewhere the latter
are treated as most deadly enemies. Two parties of Kánembú happened to
be here with argúm or millet, which they exchange for the natron. They
were rather frightened when they saw us, the Búdduma being generally
regarded as enemies; but the sheikh and his counsellors are well aware
of this intercourse, and, wanting either the spirit or the power to
reduce those islanders to subjection, they must allow their own
subjects, whom they fail to protect against the continual inroads of the
Búdduma, to deal with the latter at their own discretion. It was my
earnest wish to go on board one of the boats, and to examine their make
attentively; and, with the assistance of Kashélla Kótoko, who was well-
known to the Búdduma, I should perhaps have succeeded, if Bú-Sʿad, my
Mohammedan companion, had not behaved like a madman: indeed I could
scarcely restrain him from firing at these people, who had done us no
harm. This was certainly a mere outbreak of fanaticism. When the people
in the boats saw my servant’s excited behaviour, they left the shore,
though numerous enough to overpower us; and we then rode on to another
creek called Méllelá, whence we turned westwards, and in about an hour,
partly through water, partly over a grassy plain, reached Maduwári.
Maduwári, at that time, was an empty sound for me—a name without a
meaning, just like the names of so many other places at which I had
touched on my wanderings; but it was a name about to become important in
the history of the expedition, to which many a serious remembrance was
to be attached. Maduwári was to contain another white man’s grave, and
thus to rank with Ngurútuwa.
When I first entered the place from the side of the lake, it made a very
agreeable impression upon me, as it showed evident signs of ease and
comfort, and, instead of being closely packed together, as most of the
towns and villages of the Kanúri are, it lay dispersed in eleven or
twelve separate clusters of huts, shaded by a rich profusion of korna-
and bíto-trees. I was conducted by my companion, Kashélla Kótoko, to the
house of Fúgo ʿAli. It was the house wherein Mr. Overweg, a year and a
half later, was to expire; while Fúgo ʿAli himself, the man who first
contracted friendship with me, then conducted my companion on his
interesting navigation round the islands of the lake, and who frequented
our house, was destined to fall a sacrifice in the revolution of 1854.
How different was my reception then, when I first went to his house on
this my first excursion to the lake, and when I revisited it with Mr.
Vogel in the beginning of 1855, when Fúgo ʿAli’s widow was sobbing at my
side, lamenting the ravages of time, the death of my companion, and that
of her own husband.
The village pleased me so much that I took a long walk through it before
I sat down to rest; and after being treated most sumptuously with fowls
and a roasted sheep, I passed the evening very agreeably in conversation
with my black friends. The inhabitants of all these villages are
Kánembú[81], belonging to the tribe of the Sugúrti, who in former times
were settled in Kánem, till by the wholesale devastation of that country
they were compelled to leave their homes and seek a retreat in these
regions. Here they have adopted the general dress of the Kanúri; and
only very few of them may at present be seen exhibiting their original
native costume, the greatest ornament of which is the head-dress, while
the body itself, with the exception of a tight leathern apron, or
“fúno,” is left naked. This is a remarkable peculiarity of costume,
which seems to prevail among almost all barbarous tribes. The original
head-dress of the Sugúrti, that is to say, of the head men of the tribe,
consists of four different articles: first the “jóka,” or cap, rather
stiff, and widening at the top, where the second article, the “ariyábu”
(aliyáfu), is tied round it; from the midst of the folds of the ariyábu,
just over the front of the head, the “múllefu” stands forth, a piece of
red cloth, stiffened, as it seems, by a piece of leather from behind;
and all round the crown of the head a bristling crown of reeds rises
with barbaric majesty to a height of about eight inches. Round his neck
he wears a tight string of white beads, or “kulúlu,” and hanging down
upon the breast, several small leather pockets, containing written
charms or láya, while his right arm is ornamented with three rings, one
on the upper arm, called “wíwi or bíbi,” one made of ivory, and called
“chíla,” above the elbow, and another, called “kúllo,” just above the
wrist. The shields of the Sugúrti, at least most of them, are broad at
the top as well as at the base, and besides his large spear or kasákka,
he is always armed with three or four javelins, “bállem.” But besides
the Sugúrti there happened to be just then present in the village some
Búdduma, handsome, slender, and intelligent people, their whole attire
consisting in a leathern apron and a string of white beads round the
neck, which, together with their white teeth, produces a beautiful
contrast with the jet-black skin. They gave me the first account of the
islands of the lake, stating that the open water, which in their
language is called “Kalilémma,” or rather Kúlu kemé, begins one day’s
voyage from Káya, the small harbour of Maduwári, stretching in the
direction of Sháwi, and that the water is thenceforth from one to two
fathoms deep. I invariably understood from all the people with whom I
spoke about this interesting lake, that the open water, with its islands
of elevated sandy downs, stretches from the mouth of the Sháry towards
the western shore, and that all the rest of the lake consists of swampy
meadow-lands, occasionally inundated. I shall have occasion to speak
again about this point when briefly reporting my unfortunate companion’s
voyage on the lake.[82]
[Illustration: Drawn by J. M. Bernatz, from a Sketch by Dr. Barth.
M. & N. Hanhart, lith. et impt.
KÁLU-KEMÉ.
the open water of the Tsád.]
Having closed my day’s labour usefully and pleasantly, I lay down under
a sort of shed, but had much to suffer from musquitoes, which, together
with fleas, are a great nuisance near the banks of the lagoon.
[Sidenote: Sunday, April 27th.]
Before sunrise we were again in the saddle, accompanied by Fúgo or Púfo
ʿAli, who had his double pair of small drums with him, and looked well
on his stately horse. It was a beautiful morning, and I was delighted
with the scene around. Clear and unbroken were the lines of the horizon,
the swampy plain extending on our right towards the lake, and blending
with it, so as to allow the mind that delights in wandering over distant
regions a boundless expanse to rove in—an enjoyment not to be found in
mountainous regions, be the mountains ever so distant. For
“’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view.”
Thus we went on slowly northwards, while the sun rose over the patches
of water, which spread over the grassy plain; and on our left the
village displayed its snug yards and huts, neatly fenced and shaded by
spreading trees. We now left Maduwári, and after a little while passed
another village called Dógoji, when we came to a large hamlet or “berí”
of Kánembú cattle-breeders, who had the care of almost all the cattle of
the villages along the shores of the lake, which is very credibly
reported to amount together to eleven thousand head. The herd here
collected—numbering at least a thousand head, most of them of that
peculiar kind, called kúri, mentioned before—was placed in the midst,
while the men were encamped all around, armed with long spears and light
shields; at equal distances long poles were fixed in the ground, on
which the butter was hung up in skins or in “kórió,” vessels made of
grass. Here we had some delay, as Fúgo ʿAli, who was the inspector of
all these villages, had to make inquiries respecting three head of
cattle belonging to the vizier, which had been stolen during the night.
On our left the considerable village of Bínder, which is at least as
large as Maduwári, exhibited an interesting picture; and I had leisure
to make a sketch.
[Illustration: Drawn by J. M. Bernatz, from a Sketch by Dr. Barth.
M. & N. Hanhart, lith. et impt.
SHORES OF THE TSÁD.
April 26th. 1851.]
Having here indulged in a copious draught of fresh milk, we resumed our
march, turning to the eastward; and having passed through deep water, we
reached the creek “Kógorám,” surrounded by a dense belt of tall rushes
of various kinds. We were just about to leave this gulf, when we were
joined by Zíntelma, another Kánemma chief, who ever afterwards remained
attached to me and Mr. Overweg, with five horsemen. Our troop having
thus increased, we went on cheerfully to another creek called Tábirám,
whence we galloped towards Bolé, trying in vain to overtake a troop of
kelára (the antelope before mentioned), which rushed headlong into the
water and disappeared in the jungle. Before, however, we could get to
this latter place, we had to pass very deep water, which covered my
saddle, though I was mounted on a tall horse, and swamped altogether my
poor Bú-Sʿad on his pony; nothing but his head and his gun were to be
seen for a time. But it was worth while to reach the spot which we thus
attained at the widest creek of the lake as yet seen by me,—a fine open
sheet of water, the surface of which, agitated by a light east wind,
threw its waves upon the shore. All around was one forest of reeds of
every description, while the water itself was covered with water-plants,
chiefly the water-lily or _Nymphæa lotus_. Numberless flocks of
waterfowl of every description played about. The creek has an angular
form; and its recess, which makes a deep indentation from E. 30 N. to W.
30 S., is named Nghélle.
Having made our way through the water and rushes, and at length got
again on firm ground, we made a momentary halt to consider what next to
do. Háj Beshír had taught me to hope that it would be possible to reach
on horseback the island Sóyurum[83], which extends a long way into the
lake, and whence I might have an extensive view over the Kúlu kemé and
many of the islands; but my companions were unanimously of opinion that
the depth of the water to be crossed for many miles exceeded the height
of my horse; and although I was quite ready to expose myself to more
wetting, in order to see a greater portion of this most interesting
feature of Central Africa, I nevertheless did not think it worth while
to ride a whole day through deep water, particularly as in so doing I
should not be able to keep my chronometer and my compass dry; for these
were now the most precious things which I had on earth, and could not be
replaced or repaired so easily as gun and pistols. But moreover my
horse, which had never been accustomed to fatigue, and had not been well
fed, had become quite lame, and seemed scarcely able to carry me back to
Kúkawa. I therefore gave up the idea of visiting the island, which in
some years, when the lake does not rise to a great height, may be
reached with little inconvenience[84], and followed my companions
towards the large village of Káwa.[85]