really beautiful female in the prime of womanhood, who, with her son, a
boy of about eight or nine years of age, formed a most charming group,
well worthy of the hand of an accomplished artist. The boy’s form did
not yield in any respect to the beautiful symmetry of the most
celebrated Grecian statues, as that of the praying boy, or that of the
_diskophóros_. His legs and arms were adorned with strings of iron
beads, such as I shall have occasion to describe more distinctly further
on, made in Wándalá, which are generally worn by young people; his legs
were as straight as possible: his hair, indeed, was very short, and
curled, but not woolly. He, as well as his mother and the whole family,
were of a pale or yellowish-red complexion, like rhubarb. His mother,
who was probably twenty-two years of age, was a little disfigured by a
thin pointed metal plate about an inch long, of the figure represented
here, which was stuck through her under lip. This kind of barbarous
ornament is called in the language of these people “seghéum,” and is
very differently shaped, and generally much smaller than that worn by
this woman; indeed it is often a mere thin tag. It is possible that its
size varies according to the character of the females by whom it is
worn. However small it may be, it can hardly be fastened in the lip
without being very inconvenient, and even painful, at least at first: at
any rate it is less monstrous than the large bone which is worn by the
Músgu women in the same way. These simple people were greatly amused
when they saw me take so much interest in them; but while they were
pleased with my approval, and behaved very decently, they grew
frightened when I set about sketching them. This is the misfortune of
the traveller in these regions, where everything is new, and where
certainly one of the most interesting points attaches to the character
of the natives,—that he will very rarely succeed in persuading one of
them to stand while he makes an accurate drawing of him. The men are
generally tall, and while they are young, rather slender; some of the
women also attain a great height, and in that state, with their hanging
breasts, form frightful objects in their total nakedness, especially if
they be of red colour.
In another courtyard, I saw two unmarried young girls busy at house-
work: they were about twelve years of age, and were more decently clad,
wearing an apron of striped cotton round their loins; but this was
evidently a result of Mohammedanism. These also were of copper colour;
and their short curled hair was dyed of the same hue by powdered camwood
rubbed into it. They wore only thin tags in their under lips, and
strings of red glass beads round their neck. Their features were
pleasing, though less handsome than those of the woman above described.
They were in ecstasies when I made them some little presents, and did
not know how to thank me sufficiently.
I had scarcely returned from my most interesting walk, when the
inhabitants of the neighbouring yards, seeing that I was a good-natured
sort of man who took great interest in them, and hearing from my people
that in some respects I was like themselves, sent me a large pot of
their intoxicating beverage, or “komíl,” made of Guinea corn, which,
however, I could not enjoy, as it was nothing better than bad muddy
beer. Instead of confusing my brains with such a beverage, I sat down
and wrote about two hundred words in their own language, which seemed to
have no relation to any of the languages with which I had as yet become
acquainted, but which, as I found afterwards, is nearly related to, or
rather only a dialect of the Batta language, which is spread over a
large part of Ádamáwa or Fúmbiná, and has many points of connection with
the Músgu language, while in certain general principles it approaches
the great South African family. Having received, besides my home-made
supper of mohámsa, several bowls of “déffa” or paste of Guinea corn from
the natives, I had a long pleasant chat in the evening with the two
young girls whom I have mentioned above, and who brought two fowls for
sale, but were so particular in their bartering, that the bargain was
not concluded for full two hours, when I at length succeeded in buying
the precious objects with shells, or kúngona, which have no more
currency here than they had since we left Kúkawa, but which these young
ladies wanted for adorning their persons. They spoke Kanúri with me, and
their own language between themselves and with some other women who
joined them after a while. In vain I tried to get a little milk;
although the inhabitants in general did not seem to be so badly off, yet
they had lost all their horses and cattle by the exactions of the Bórnu
officers. Indeed it is really lamentable to see the national wellbeing
and humble happiness of these pagan communities trodden down so
mercilessly by their Mohammedan neighbours. The tempest which had
threatened us the whole afternoon discharged itself in the distance.
[Sidenote: Sunday, June 8th.]
We set out at a tolerably early hour to pass a forest of considerable
extent. In the beginning it was rather light, such as the Kanúri call
“dírridé,” and at times interrupted by open pasture-ground covered with
the freshest herbage, and full of the footprints of elephants of every
age and size. Pools of stagnant water were seen in all directions, and
flowers filled the air with a delicious fragrance; but the path, being
full of holes, and of a miry consistence, became at times extremely
difficult, especially for the camels. As for ourselves, we were well
off, eating now and then some wild fruit, and either sucking out the
pulp of the “tóso,” or devouring the succulent root of the “katakírri.”
The tóso is the fruit of the _Bassia Parkii_, called kadeña by the Háusa
people, and consists almost entirely of a large kernel of the colour and
size of a chestnut, which is covered with a thin pulp inside the green
peel: this pulp has a very agreeable taste, but is so thin that it is
scarcely worth sucking out. The tree in question, which I had lost sight
of entirely since I left Háusa, is very common hereabouts; and the
people prepare a good deal of butter from the kernel, which is not only
esteemed for seasoning their food, but also for the medicinal qualities
ascribed to it, and which I shall repeatedly have occasion to mention.
As for the katakírri, it is a bulbous root, sometimes of the size of a
large English potato, the pulp being not unlike that of the large
radish, but softer, more succulent, and also very refreshing and
nutritious. The juice has a milky colour. A man may easily travel for a
whole day with nothing to eat but this root, which seems to be very
common during the rainy season in the woody and moist districts of
Central Africa—at least as far as I had occasion to observe. It is not
less frequent near the Niger and in Kébbi than it is here; but I never
observed it in Bórnu, nor in Bagírmi. It requires but little experience
to find out where the bulbous root grows, its indication above ground
being a single blade about ten inches high; but it sometimes requires a
good deal of labour to dig up the roots, as they are often about a foot
or a foot and a half under ground.
The soil gradually became worse; the trees were of a most uniform
description, being all mimosas, and all alike of indifferent growth,
while only here and there a large leafless _Adansonia_ stretched forth
its gigantic arms as if bewailing the desolation spread around, where
human beings had formerly subsisted: for the kúka or baobab likes the
dwelling of the Negro, and he, on the other hand, can scarcely live
without it; for how could he season his simple food without the baobab’s
young fresh leaves, or sweeten and flavour his drink without the
slightly acid pulp wherein the kernels are imbedded? The herbage was
reduced to single tufts of coarse grass four or five feet high; and the
path became abominable, not allowing a moment’s inattention or
thoughtful abstraction, from fear of being thrown off the next minute
into a swampy hole.
Thus we went on cheerlessly, when about eleven o’clock the growth of the
trees began to improve, and I observed a tree, which I did not remember
to have seen before, of middle size, the foliage rather thin, and of
light-green colour; it is called “kamándu” in Kanúri, and “bóshi” in
Háusa. The country, however, does not exhibit a single trace of
habitation, either of the past or present time; and on our right no
village was said to be nearer than Díshik at the distance of half a
day’s journey, and even that was reported to be now deserted by its
inhabitants. At length the monotonous gloomy forests gave way to
scattered clusters of large trees, such as generally indicate the
neighbourhood of man’s industry; and we soon after emerged upon
beautiful green meadow-lands stretching out to the very foot of the
Wándalá mountains, the whole range of which, in its entire length from
north to south, lay open to view. It was a charming sight, the beautiful
green of the plain against the dark colour of the mountains, and the
clear sunny sky; and I afterwards regretted deeply that I had not made a
slight sketch of the country from this spot, as near the village the
same wide horizon was no longer visible.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when we reached the first cluster of
huts belonging to the village or district of Ísge, or Íssege, which
spread to a considerable extent over the plain, while horses and sheep
were feeding on the adjacent pastures, and women were cultivating the
fields. A first glance at this landscape impressed me with the
conviction that I had at length arrived at a seat of the indigenous
inhabitants, which, although it had evidently felt the influence of its
overbearing and merciless neighbours, had not yet been altogether
despoiled by their hands. Vigorous and tall manly figures, girt round
the loins with a short leathern apron, and wearing, besides their
agricultural tools, the “danísko” (hand-bill), or a spear, were proudly
walking about or comfortably squatting together in the shade of some
fine tree, and seemed to intimate that this ground belonged to them, and
that the foreigner, whoever he might be, ought to act discreetly. As for
their dress, however, I almost suspected that, though very scanty, it
was put on only for the occasion; for, on arriving at the first cluster
of huts, we came abruptly upon a hollow with a pond of water, from which
darted forth a very tall and stout bronze-coloured woman, totally naked,
with her pitcher upon her head,—not only to my own amazement, but even
to that of my horse, which, coming from the civilized country of Bórnu,
which is likewise the seat of one of the blackest races in the interior,
seemed to be startled by such a sight. However, I have observed that
many of those simple tribes deem some sort of covering, however scanty
it might be, more essential for the man than the woman.
We first directed our steps towards the western side of the village,
where in a denser cluster of huts was the dwelling of the nominal
“bíllama,” that is to say, of a man who, betraying his native country,
had placed himself under the authority of the Bórnu people, in the hope
that, with their assistance, he might gratify his ambition by becoming
the tyrant of his compatriots. Here we met Ibrahíma, who with his
countrymen had arrived before us. Having obtained from the important
bíllama a man who was to assign us quarters, we returned over the wide
grassy plain towards the eastern group, while beyond the quarter which
we were leaving I observed the sacred grove, of considerable
circumference, formed by magnificent trees, mostly of the ficus tribe,
and surrounded with an earthen wall.
At length we reached the eastern quarter; but the owners of the
courtyards which were selected for our quarters, did not seem at all
inclined to receive us. I had cheerfully entered with Bú-Sʿad the
courtyard assigned to me, in order to take possession of it, and my
servant had already dismounted, when its proprietor rushed furiously in,
and, raising his spear in a most threatening attitude, ordered me to
leave his house instantly. Acknowledging the justice of his claims to
his own hearth, I did not hesitate a moment to obey his mandate; but I
had some difficulty in persuading my servant to go away peaceably, as he
was more inclined to shoot the man. This dwelling in particular was very
neatly arranged; and I was well able to sympathize with the proprietor,
who saw that his clean yard was to be made a stable and littered with
dirt. The yards contained from five to seven huts, each of different
size and arrangement, besides a shed, and gave plain indications of an
easy and comfortable domestic life.
Bíllama, that is to say, my guide, who seemed not to have been more
fortunate than myself in his endeavour to find a lodging, being rather
crest-fallen and dejected, we thought it best to give up all idea of
sheltered quarters, and, trusting to our good luck, to encamp outside.
We therefore drew back altogether from the inhabited quarter into the
open meadow, and dismounted beneath the wide-spreading shade of an
immense kúka, or “bokki,” at least eighty feet high, the foliage of
which being interwoven with numbers of climbing plants, such as I very
rarely observed on this tree, formed a most magnificent canopy. While my
tent was being pitched here, a number of natives collected round us, and
squatting down in a semicircle eyed all my things very attentively,
drawing each other’s attention to objects which excited their curiosity.
They were all armed; and as there were from thirty to forty, and
hundreds more might have come to their assistance in a moment, their
company was not so agreeable as under other circumstances it might have
been. The reason, however, why they behaved so inhospitably towards me
evidently was, that they took me for an officer of the king of Bórnu:
but this impression gave way the longer they observed my manners and
things; indeed, as soon as they saw the tent, they became aware that it
was not a tent like those of their enemies, and they came to the same
conclusion with regard to the greater part of my luggage. In many places
in Negroland I observed that the bipartite tentpole was a most wonderful
object to the natives, and often served to characterize the Christian.
This time, however, we did not come to friendly terms; but the reader
will be gratified to see how differently these people treated me on my
return from Fúmbiná.
While our party was rather quietly and sullenly sitting near the tent, a
number of Fúlbe, who had been staying in this district for some time,
came to pay their respects to me. They were a very diminutive set of
people, and excepting general traits of resemblance, and language, were
unlike those proud fellow countrymen of theirs in the west; but I
afterwards found that the Fúlbe in the eastern part of Ádamáwa are
generally of this description, while those about the capital have a far
more noble and dignified appearance. I think this may be not so much a
mark of a difference of tribe, as a consequence of the low circumstances
of those settled at a great distance from the seat of government, who,
being still engaged in struggling for their subsistence, have not raised
themselves from their original condition of humble cattle-breeders, or
“berroróji,” to the proud rank of conquerors and religious reformers.
Their colour certainly was not the characteristic rhubarb-colour of the
Fúta Púllo, nor the deep black of the Toróde, but was a greyish sort of
black, approaching what the Frenchmen call the _chocolat-au-lait_
colour, while their small features wanted the expressiveness which those
of the light Púllo generally have. They all wore shirts, which however
were deficient in that cleanliness which in general is characteristic of
this race. These simple visitors might perhaps have proved very
interesting companions, if we had been able to understand each other;
but as they spoke neither Arabic, nor Háusa, nor Kanúri, while I was but
a beginner in their language, our conversation flowed but sluggishly.
I had observed in all the dwellings of the natives a very large species
of fish laid to dry on the roofs of the huts; and being not a little
astonished at the existence of fish of such a size in this district,
where I was not aware that there existed any considerable waters, I took
the earliest opportunity of inquiring whence they were brought, and,
having learnt that a considerable lake was at no great distance, I
intimated to Bíllama my wish to visit it. I therefore mounted on
horseback with him in the afternoon, and then passing behind the eastern
quarter of Íssege, and crossing a tract covered with excellent herbage,
but so full of holes and crevices, that the horses had great difficulty
in getting over it, we reached a fine sheet of water of considerable
depth, stretching from west to east, and full of large fish. All along
the way we were met by natives returning from fishing, with their nets
and their spoil. The fish measure generally about twenty inches in
length, and seem to be of the same kind as that caught in the Tsád. The
banks of the water, except on the west side, where we stood, were so
hemmed in with rushes that I could not form a satisfactory estimate of
its magnitude or real character; but it seems to be a hollow which is
filled by the rivulet or torrent which I surveyed in its upper course
the following day, and which seems to pass at a short distance to the
east of this lake. The latter, however, is said always to contain water,
which, as far as I know, is not the case with the river; but certainly
even the lake must become much shallower in the dry season.
A small torrent joins the lake near its south-western corner; and on the
bank of this torrent I observed a rounded mass of granite rising to the
height of about fifteen feet, this being the only eminence in the whole
plain. Though it was not elevated enough to allow me a fair survey of
the plain itself, it afforded a splendid and interesting panorama of the
mountains.
The whole range of mountains, which forms the western barrier of the
little country of Wándalá, lay open before me at the distance of about
twenty miles, while behind it, towards the south, mountains of more
varied shape, and greater elevation, became visible. It was here that I
obtained the first view of Mount Méndefi, or Mindif, which, since it was
seen by Major Denham on his adventurous expedition against some of the
Felláta settlements to the south of Morá, has become so celebrated in
Europe, giving rise to all sorts of conjectures and theories. It might,
indeed, even from this point be supposed to be the centre of a
considerable mountain mass, surrounded as it is by several other summits
of importance, particularly the Mechíka and Umshi, while it is in
reality nothing more than a detached cone starting up from a level
plain, like the Mount of Mbutúdi on a smaller scale, or that of
Tákabéllo, with both of which Ibrahíma used to compare it, or the
Alantíka on a larger scale. Its circumference at the base certainly does
not exceed probably from ten to twelve miles, as it is partly
encompassed by the straggling village of the same name, which seems to
stretch out to a considerable length, or rather to be separated into two
or three distinct clusters. The place has a market every Friday, which
is of some importance.
From my position the top of the mount presented the shape here
delineated; and even through the telescope the Mindif, as well as the
singular mount of Kamálle, of which I shall soon have to speak, seemed
to be of a whitish or greyish colour, which led me to the conclusion
that it consisted of a calcareous rock. It was not till a much later
period that I learnt, from a native of the village of Mindif, that the
stone was originally quite black, not only on the surface, but all
through, and extremely hard, and that the white colour is merely due to
immense numbers of birds, which habitually frequent it, being nothing
else than guáno. I think, therefore, that this mount will eventually
prove to be a basaltic cone, an ancient volcano—a character which seems
to be indicated by the double horn of its summit. Its height scarcely
exceeds five thousand feet above the surface of the sea, or less than
four thousand feet above the plain from which it rises.
[Illustration]
But while my attention was engaged by this mountain, on account of its
having been so much talked of in Europe, another height attracted my
notice much more, on account of its peculiar shape. This was Mount
Kamálle, which just became visible behind the continuous mountain-chain
in the foreground, like a columnar pile rising from a steep cone, it
likewise seemed of a greyish colour. Between this remarkable peak and
Mount Mindif several cones were descried from a greater distance, while
west from the latter mountain the elevated region seemed to cease.
The highest elevation of the Wándalá range, which is called Magár, I
estimated at about three thousand feet, while the chain in general did
not rise more than two thousand five hundred feet above the level of the
sea, or about one thousand five hundred feet above the plain. This part
of the mountain-chain forms the natural stronghold of a pagan king whom
my Kanúri companion constantly called “Mai Sugúr,”[101] but whose proper
name, or title, seems to be “Lá.”
Overjoyed at having at length reached the region of the famous Mindif,
and full of plans for the future, I remounted my horse. While returning
to our encampment, my companion, who was altogether a sociable and
agreeable sort of person, gave me some more information with regard to
the Marghí, whom he represented as a numerous tribe, stronger even at
the present time than the Manga, and capable of sending thirty thousand
armed men into the field. He told me that it was their peculiar custom
to mourn for the death of a young man, and to make merry at the death of
an old one—an account which I found afterwards confirmed, while his
statement that they buried the dead in an upright position together with
their weapons, furniture, and some paste of Indian corn, did not prove
quite correct. In many respects they claim great superiority over their
neighbours; and they practise even to a great extent inoculation for
smallpox, which in Bórnu is rather the exception than the rule.
Fortunately for us in our out-of-doors encampment, the sky remained
serene; and while, after a very frugal supper, we were reclining on our
mats in the cool air of the evening, an interesting and animated dispute
arose between Bíllama, Mʿallem Katúri, and Mohámmedu—the Ádamáwa
messenger whom I have represented above as a very communicative,
sociable person—about the water of Íssege, whence it came, and whither
it flowed. Mohámmedu, who notwithstanding his intelligence and
sprightliness was not free from absurd prejudices, contended, with the
utmost pertinacity, that the water in question issued from the river
Bénuwé at Kobére and ran into the Sháry, a river with which he was
acquainted only by hearsay. But my prudent and experienced old mʿallem
contested this point successfully, demonstrating that the river rose in
the mountains far to the north of the Bénuwé. Thus we spent the evening
quite cheerfully; and the night passed without any accident, all the
people sleeping in a close circle round my tent.
[Sidenote: Monday, June 9th.]
At an early hour we set out on our journey, being joined by several of
the Fúlbe, who had come the day before to salute me, while only one of
our caravan remained behind, namely, the horseman of Malá Ibrám. This
whole district had formerly belonged to the last-named person; but he
had lately ceded it to Abú-Bakr, the son of Sheikh ʿOmár: but we have
seen what a precarious possession it was. The country through which we
passed was varied and fertile, although the sky was overcast; and I was
struck with the frequency of the poisonous euphorbia, called “karúgu” by
the Kanúri. Further on, the crop stood already a foot high, and formed a
most pleasant object. We then entered a dense forest, where the danger
became considerable, an evident proof of the lawless state of this
country being seen in the village Yésa, which was in some degree subject
(“imána,” as the people call it, with an Arabic name) to the sheikh
ʿOmár, but had been ransacked and burnt about forty days previously by
the tribe of the Gulúk. It was the first village on this road the huts
of which were entirely of the construction called by the Kanúri “bóngo.”
Having stopped here a few minutes to allow the people to recruit
themselves, we pushed on with speed, and soon passed the site of another
village, which had been destroyed at an earlier period, having close on
our left a fertile plain in a wild state, over which the mountain chain
was still visible, with a glance now and then at the Mindif and Kamálle.
Suddenly there was visible on this side a river from thirty to forty
yards broad, and inclosed by banks about twelve feet high, with a
considerable body of water, flowing through the fine but desolate plain
in a northerly direction, but with a very winding course and a moderate
current; and it henceforth continued on our side,—sometimes approaching,
at others receding, and affording an agreeable cool draught, instead of
the unwholesome stagnant water from the pools, impregnated with
vegetable matter, and very often full of worms, and forming certainly
one of the chief causes of disease to the foreign traveller. In this
part of the forest the karáge was the most common tree, while besides it
there was a considerable variety,—the tóso or kadeña, the koráwa, the
kabúwi, the zíndi, and the acacia-like paipáya; the fruit of the tóso,
or rather its thin pulp, and the beautiful cream-fruit of the gonda-bush
(_Annona palustris?_) remaining our favourite dainties.