meandering course of the komádugu, which was here lined with ngábbore or
_ficus_, and with the birgim or diña (as it is called in Háusa), a tree
attaining a height of from thirty to forty feet, but not spreading wide,
with leaves of a darkish green, and fruit like a small plum, but less
soft, and of a black colour, though it was not yet ripe. Here I was
greeted by the cheerful sight of the first corn-crop of the season,
which I had yet seen—having lately sprung up, and adorning the fields
with its lively fresh green. Rain had been very copious hereabouts; and
several large pools were formed along the komádugu, in which the boys of
the neighbouring villages were catching small fish three or four inches
long, while in other places the banks of the river were overgrown with
beautifully-fresh grass. Having crossed and re-crossed the fiumara, we
ascended its steep left bank, which in some places exhibited regular
strata of sandstone. Here we passed a little dyeing-yard of two or three
pots, while several small patches of indigo were seen at the foot of the
bank, and a bustling group of men and cattle gathered round the well.
Villages were seen lying about in every direction; and single cottages,
scattered about here and there, gave evidence of a sense of security.
The corn-fields were most agreeably broken by tracts covered with the
bushes of the wild gonda, which has a most delicious fruit, of a fine
cream-like taste, and of the size of a peach, a great part of which,
however, is occupied by the stone. The country through which we passed
was so interesting to me, and my conversation with my Háusa mʿallem
about the labours of the field so animated, that we made a good stretch
without being well aware of it, and took up our quarters in a place
called Pálamarí[99] when it was already dark. However, our evening rest
passed less agreeably than our afternoon’s ride, owing to a violent
conjugal quarrel in an adjoining cottage, the voices of the leading pair
in the dispute being supported by the shrill voices of village gossips.
[Sidenote: Thursday, June 5th.]
In riding through the village, as we set out in the morning, I observed
that the yards were unusually spacious, and the cottages very large; but
it struck me that I did not see a single “bóngo,” or hut of clay walls,
and I thought myself justified in drawing the conclusion that the
inhabitants must find shelter enough under their light thatched walls,
and consequently that the rainy season is moderate here.
We had scarcely emerged from the narrow lanes of the village, when I was
gratified with the first sight of the mountainous region; it was Mount
Deládebá or Dalántubá, which appeared towards the south, and the sight
of which filled my heart with joyous anticipations not unlike those with
which, on my first wandering in 1840, I enjoyed the distant view of the
Tyrolian Alps from the village Semling, near Munich. But our march was
but a pretence; we had not been a full hour on the road, crossing a
country adorned chiefly with the bushes of the wild gonda, when Bíllama
left the path and entered the village Fúgo Mozári. The reason was, that
to-day (Thursday) the market was held in the neighbouring Ujé Kasúkulá,
and it was essential that some of our party should visit, or (to use
their expression) “eat” this market.
However, I did not stay long in our quarters, which, though comfortable,
were rather close, and of an extremely labyrinthine character, being
divided into several small yards separated from each other by narrow
passages inclosed with high síggedi mats. After a brief delay I mounted
again with Bíllama and Bú-Sʿad, and after two miles reached the market-
town, crossing on our path a shallow branch of the komádugu, overgrown
with succulent herbage, and exhibiting a scene of busy life.
The market was already well attended, and answered to its fame. As it is
held every Thursday and Sunday, it is visited not only by people from
Kúkawa, but also from Kanó[100], for which reason European as well as
Háusa manufactures are often cheaper in Ujé than in Kúkawa. This we
found to be the case with common paper, “tre lune.” The articles with
which the market is provided from Kúkawa are chiefly natron and salt;
and I myself bought here a good supply of this latter article, as it has
a great value in Ádamáwa, and may be used as well for buying small
objects as for presents. Ujé, however, derives also great importance
from the slave-trade, situated as it is on the border of several Pagan
tribes; and I have often heard it said that in the neighbourhood of Ujé
a husband will sell his wife, or a father his child, when in want of
money: but this may be an exaggeration. It is true, however, that slaves
who have run away from Kúkawa are generally to be found here. There
might be from five to six thousand customers; but there would be many
more, if any security were guaranteed to the visitors, from the many
independent tribes who are living round about, especially the Marghí,
Bábir, and Kerékeré. But, as it is, I did not see a single individual in
the market who by his dress did not bear testimony to his Mohammedan
profession.
Making several times the round of the market, I greatly excited the
astonishment of the native traders, who had never seen a European. I
then started with Bíllama on an excursion to Aláwó, the burial place of
the great Bórnu king Edrís Alawóma, although the weather was extremely
sultry, and the sun almost insupportable. The whole country is densely
inhabited; and my companion, who had formerly been governor of the
district, was everywhere kindly saluted by the inhabitants, particularly
the women, who would kneel down by the roadside to pay him their
respects. However, I was prevented from seeing the sepulchre itself by
an immense morass extending in front of the town of Aláwó, and the
turning of which would have demanded a great circuit. Numberless flocks
of waterfowl enlivened it, while rank herbage and dense forest bordered
it all round.
We therefore thought it better to return, particularly as a storm was
evidently gathering; but we first went to an encampment of Shúwa, where
we found a numerous family engaged, under the shade of a wide-spreading
ngábbore, in all the various occupations of household work; but we were
very inhospitably received when we begged for something to drink. I
shall often have occasion to mention the inhospitality of these people,
whom I was sometimes inclined to take for Jews by descent, rather than
real Arabs. Passing then the village Pálamarí, and keeping along the
lovely bed of the fiumara, bordered by fine wide-spreading trees, and
richly overgrown with succulent grass, upon which numbers of horses were
feeding, we reached our quarters just in time; for shortly afterwards
the storm, which had been hanging in the air the whole day, and had made
the heat about noon more insupportable than I ever felt it in my life,
came down with considerable violence. The consequence was that I was
driven from the cool shed which I had occupied in the morning, into the
interior of a hut, where flies and bugs molested me greatly. The sheds
or stalls, which are often made with great care, but never waterproof,
have the great inconvenience in the rainy season, that while they do not
exclude the rain, they retain the humidity, and at the same time shut
out the air from the huts to which they are attached.
In the course of the day we obtained the important news, that Mohammed
Lowel, the governor of Ádamáwa, had returned from his expedition against
the Bána, or rather Mbána, a tribe settled ten days’ march north-
eastward from Yóla, but at less distance from Ujé. Bíllama gave me much
interesting information about the country before us, chiefly with
reference to Sugúr, a powerful and entirely independent pagan chief in
the mountains south from Mándará. With regard to this latter country, I
perceived more clearly, as I advanced, what a small province it must be,
comprehending little more than the capital and a few hamlets lying close
around. There came to me also an intelligent-looking Púllo merchant, who
was trading between Kanó and Ujé along the route indicated above; but
unluckily he did not call on me until sunset, just as the prayer of the
almákárifú was approaching, and he did not return in the evening as I
wished him to do.
[Footnote 91: “Bíllama” properly means mayor, from “bílla,” a town; but
in many cases it has become a proper name.]
[Footnote 92: See the chronological tables in the Appendix.]
[Footnote 93: Kárda is properly the name of that division of the Mánga
which is settled in the province of Máshena.]
[Footnote 94: See chronological tables.]
[Footnote 95: The Mándara people, or rather Ur-wándalá, call the
Gámerghú Múks-amálguwá, which I think is a nickname, the word múkse
meaning woman; but the latter part of the name, Amálguwá, may be the
original form of Gámerghú. I had no opportunity of asking the people
themselves about their original name.]
[Footnote 96: Maídugurí means the Place of the Maídugu or nobleman.]
[Footnote 97: It was in this place, as I have ascertained with some
difficulty, that Mr. Vogel made the astronomical observation which he
assigns to Ujé, whereas Ujé is an extensive district. He has made a
similar mistake with regard to his observation at Múniyo or Mínyo.
Unfortunately there seems to be a mistake or slip of the pen in the
cipher representing the longitude of the place; and I have therefore not
been able to make use of it.]
[Footnote 98: This is the only form of the name actually used by the
natives, as the founders of that city have not taken the trouble to ask
scholars if that was grammatically right. However, there is a small
village of the name of Hamdu-lilláhi, as we shall see, but entirely
distinct from the former.]
[Footnote 99: It might seem that the name should rather be Bíllamarí;
but that is not the case. I do not know the meaning of “pálama.”]
[Footnote 100: The route from Kanó to Ujé passes by Katágum, from hence
to Mésaw, five days; from hence to Gújeba, eight days; and from hence to
Ujé, five days—at a slow rate.]
CHAP. XXXIII.
THE BORDER-COUNTRY OF THE MARGHÍ.
[Sidenote: Friday, June 6th.]
We now commenced travelling more in earnest. Ibrahíma had been busy
looking after his master’s subjects, who had been carried away into
slavery, all about the villages in the neighbourhood, but with very
little success. Our road passed close by Ujé Kásukulá, which to-day
looked quite deserted; and then through a populous country with numerous
villages and fine pasture-grounds, where I saw the plant called “wálde”
by the Fúlbe.
I had taken great pains in Kúkawa, while gathering information about the
country whither I was going, to ascertain from my informants whether
snow ever lies there on the tops of the mountains or not; but I could
never get at the truth, none of the natives whom I interrogated having
ever visited North Africa, so as to be able to identify what he saw on
the tops of the mountains in his country with the snow seen in the
north. Áhmedu bel Mejúb, indeed, knew the Atlas, and had seen snow on
some of the tops of that range; but he had paid little attention to the
subject, and did not think himself justified in deciding the question.
Now this morning, when we obtained once more a sight of Mount Dalántubá,
marking out as it were, the beginning of a mountainous region, we
returned again to the subject; and all that my companions said led me to
believe that I might really expect to see snow on the highest mountains
of Ádamáwa. But after all I was mistaken; for they were speaking of
clouds. Unfortunately Bíllama had taken another path, so that to-day I
had no one to tell me the names of the villages which we passed. Some
geographers think this a matter of no consequence—for them it is enough
if the position of the chief places be laid down by exact astronomical
observation; but to me the general character of a country, the way in
which the population is settled, and the nature and character of those
settlements themselves, seem to form some of the chief and most useful
objects of a journey through a new and unknown country.
Having marched for more than two hours through an uninterrupted scene of
agriculture and dense population, we entered a wild tract covered
principally with the beautiful large bush of the tsáda, the fruit of
which, much like a red cherry, has a pleasant acid taste, and was eaten
with great avidity, not only by my companions, but even by myself. But
the scene of man’s activity soon again succeeded to this narrow border
of wilderness; and a little before we came to the village Túrbe, which
was surrounded by open cultivated country, we passed a luxuriant
tamarind-tree, in the shade of which a blacksmith had established his
simple workshop. The group consisted of three persons, the master
heating the iron in the fire; a boy blowing it with a small pair of
bellows, or “búbutú,” and a lad fixing a handle in a hatchet. On the
ground near them lay a finished spear. Riding up to salute the smith, I
asked him whence the iron was procured, and learnt that it was brought
from Madégelé, in Búbanjídda. This is considered as the best iron
hereabouts; but a very good sort of iron is obtained also in Mándará.
We halted for the hot hours of the day near a village belonging to the
district Shámo, which originally formed part of the Marghí country, but
has been separated from it and annexed to Bórnu, its former inhabitants
having either been led into slavery or converted to Islám—that is to
say, taught to repeat a few Arabic phrases, without understanding a word
of them. The inhabitants of the village brought us paste of Guinea corn
and milk, which, mixed together, make a palatable dish. From this place
onward, ngáberi, or holcus, prevails almost exclusively, and argúm móro,
or _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_, becomes rare.
Some native traders, armed with spears and driving before them asses
laden with salt, here attached themselves to our troop; for the road
further on is so much infested by robbers, that only a large body of men
can pass it in safety. The country which we now entered bore but too
evident proofs of the unfortunate condition to which it is reduced,
forming a thick forest, through which nevertheless, here and there, the
traces of former cultivation and the mouldering remains of huts are to
be seen. According to Bíllama, as late as a few years ago a large
portion of this district was inhabited by Kanúri and Gámerghú, the
latter, most probably, having taken possession of the lands abandoned by
the Marghí; but ʿAli Déndal, who has ruled it for Abú Bakr, the son of
ʿOmár, a youth without intelligence, and only anxious to make the most
of his province, has ruined it by his rapacity: he, however, was soon to
be ruined himself. There was a small spot where the forest had been
cleared away for cultivation,—a proof that the natives, if they were
only humanely treated by the government, would not be wanting in
exertion.
The forest was partly filled up by a dense jungle of reed-grass, of such
a height as to cover horse and rider. The soil is of a black, boggy,
argillaceous nature, and full of holes, which make the passage through
this tract extremely difficult in the latter part of the rainy season.
My companions also drew my attention to the bee-hives underground, from
which a peculiar kind of honey is obtained, which I shall repeatedly
have occasion to mention in the course of my narrative.
After three hours’ march through this wild and unpleasant country, we
reached a small village called Yerímarí, which, according to Bíllama,
had formerly been of much greater size; at present it is inhabited by a
few Marghí Mohammedan proselytes. There being only one hut in the yard
assigned to us, I preferred pitching my tent, thinking that the storm
which had threatened us in the afternoon had passed by, as the clouds
had gone westwards. However, I soon learned that, in tropical climes,
there is no certainty of a storm having passed away, the clouds often
returning from the opposite quarter.
We had already retired to rest when the tempest burst upon us with
terrible fury, threatening to tear my weak little tent to pieces.
Fortunately the top-ropes were well-fastened; and, planting myself
against the quarter from whence the wind blew, I succeeded in keeping it
upright. The rain came down in torrents; and, though the tent excluded
it tolerably well from above, the water rushed in from below and wetted
my luggage. But as soon as it fairly begins to rain, a traveller in a
tolerable tent is safe; for then the heavy gale ceases. Sitting down
upon my camp-stool, I quietly awaited the end of the storm, when I
betook myself to the hut, where I found Mʿallem Katúri and Bú-Sʿad
comfortably stretched.
[Sidenote: Saturday, June 7th.]
We set out at a tolerably early hour, being all very wet. The rain had
been so heavy that the labours of the field could be deferred no longer;
and close to the village we saw a couple sowing their little field, the
man going on in advance, and making holes in the ground at equal
distances with a hoe of about five feet long (the “kíski kúllobe”),
while his wife, following him, threw a few grains of seed into each
hole. These people certainly had nothing to lose; and in order not to
risk their little stock of seed, they had waited till the ground was
thoroughly drenched, while some people commit their grain to the ground
at the very setting in of the rainy season, and risk the loss of it if
the rains should delay too long. After we had passed a small village
called Keríkasáma, the forest became very thick; and for a whole hour we
followed the immense footprints of an elephant, which had found it
convenient to keep along the beaten path, to the great annoyance of
succeeding travellers, who had, in consequence, to stumble over the deep
holes made by the impression of its feet.
About eleven o’clock we reached the outskirts of Molghoy, having passed,
half an hour before, a number of round holes, about four feet wide and
five feet deep, made intentionally, just at the spot where the path was
hemmed in between a deep fiumara to the left and uneven ground to the
right, in order to keep off a sudden hostile attack, particularly of
cavalry. Molghoy is the name of a district rather than of a village; as
the pagan countries, in general, seem to be inhabited, not in distinct
villages and towns, where the dwellings stand closely together, but in
single farms and hamlets, or clusters of huts, each of which contains an
entire family, spreading over a wide expanse of country, each man’s
fields lying close around his dwelling. The fields, however, of Molghoy
had a very sad and dismal aspect, although they were shaded and
beautifully adorned by numerous karáge-trees. Though the rainy season
had long set in, none of these fine fields were sown this year, but
still presented the old furrows of former years; and all around was
silent and inert, bearing evident signs, if not of desolation, at least
of oppression.
I had already dismounted, being a little weak and fatigued after my last
sleepless night’s uncomfortable drenching, hoping that we should here
pass the heat of the day; but there seemed to be nothing left for us to
eat, and after some conversation with a solitary inhabitant, Bíllama
informed me that we were to proceed to another village, which likewise
belongs to Molghoy. We therefore continued our march, and soon after
entered a dense forest, where we had more enjoyment of wild fruits,
principally of one called “fóti,” of the size of an apricot, and with
three large kernels, the pulp of which was very pleasant. Behind the
little hamlet Dalá Dísowa I saw the first specimen of the sacred groves
of the Marghí—a dense part of the forest surrounded with a ditch, where,
in the most luxuriant and widest-spreading tree, their god “Tumbí” is
worshipped.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when we reached the village where we
expected to find quarters. It also is called Molghoy, and is divided
into two groups by a water-course or komádugu (as the Kanúri, dílle as
the Marghí call it) about twenty-five yards wide, and inclosed by steep
banks. My kashélla, deprived of his former irresistible authority, was
now reduced to politeness and artifice; and having crossed the channel,
which at present retained only a pool of stagnant water, and was richly
overgrown with succulent grass, we lay down on its eastern bank in the
cool shade of some luxuriant kúrna-trees, the largest trees of this
species I have ever seen, where we spread all our luggage, which had
been wetted the preceding night, out to dry, while the horses were
grazing upon the fresh herbage. In this cool and pleasant spot, which
afforded a view over a great part of the village, I breakfasted upon
“chébchebé,” a light and palatable Kanúri sweetmeat, and upon “núfu,” or
habb’ el azíz, dug up in large quantities almost over the whole of
Bórnu.
By and by, as another storm seemed impending, we looked about for
quarters, and I with my three servants and Mʿallem Katúri took
possession of a small courtyard inclosed with a light fence four feet
high composed of mats and thorny bushes, which contained four huts,
while a fifth, together with the granary, had fallen in. The huts,
however, were rather narrow, encumbered as they were with a great deal
of earthenware, besides the large “gébam” or urn, containing the
necessary quantity of corn for about a week, and the “bázam” or the
water-jar; and the doors—if doors they could be called—were so extremely
small, while they were raised about a foot from the ground, that a
person not accustomed to the task had the greatest difficulty to creep
in. These narrow doors were direct proofs of the great power of the
rains in these climes, against which the natives have to protect
themselves, as well as the raised and well-plastered floors of the huts,
while reed is still the prevalent and almost exclusive material for the
whole building. As for my own hut, it had the advantage of a contrivance
to render the passage of the opening a little more easy, without
diminishing the protection against the inclemency of the weather; for
that part of the front of the hut which intervened between the doorway
and the floor of the hut was movable, and made to fold up. Each family
has its own separate courtyard, which forms a little cluster of huts by
itself, and is often a considerable distance from the next yard. This
kind of dwelling has certainly something very cheerful and pleasant in a
simple and peaceable state of society, while it offers also the great
advantage of protecting the villages against wholesale conflagrations,
but it is liable to a very great disadvantage in a community which is
threatened continually by sudden inroads from relentless enemies and
slave-hunters.
The storm luckily passing by, I walked through the village, and visited
several courtyards. The inhabitants, who, at least outwardly, have
become Mohammedans, go entirely naked, with the exception of a narrow
strip of leather, which they pass between the legs and fasten round
their waist. But even this very simple and scanty covering they seem to
think unnecessary at times. I was struck by the beauty and symmetry of
their forms, which were thus entirely exposed to view, and by the
regularity of their features, which are not disfigured by incisions, and
in some had nothing of what is called the Negro type; but I was still
more astonished at their complexion, which was very different in
different individuals, being in some of a glossy black, and in others of
a light copper, or rather rhubarb colour, the intermediate shades being
almost entirely wanting. Although the black shade seemed to prevail, I
arrived at the conclusion that the copper colour was the original
complexion of the tribe, the black shade being due to intermixture with
surrounding nations. But the same variety of shades has been observed in
many other tribes, as well on this continent as in Asia.
[Illustration]