of taking a river bath, a luxury which I had not enjoyed since bathing
in the Eurymedon. The river is full of crocodiles; but there could be
little danger from these animals after all our firing and the constant
noise of so many people. I had not yet arrived at the conviction, that
river-bathing is not good for a European in a tropical climate, but this
was the first and last time that I bathed voluntarily, with a single
exception, for when navigating the river of Logón on a fine day in
March, 1852, I could not help jumping overboard, and on my return from
Bagírmi, in August 1853, I was obliged to do it.
The bed of the river, after the first foot and a half, sloped down very
gradually, so that at the distance of thirty yards from the shore I had
not more than three feet and a half of water, but then it suddenly
became deep. The current was so strong, that I was unable to stem it;
but my original strength, I must allow, was at the time already greatly
reduced. The only advantage which I derived from this feat was that of
learning that the river carries gold with it; for the people, as often
as I dipped under water, cried out that I was searching for this metal,
and when I came out of the water, were persuaded that I had obtained
plenty of it. However, the river was already too full for investigating
this matter further.
At length a canoe arrived, the largest of the two that were actually
employed, and a long bargaining commenced with the eldest of the
canoemen, a rather short and well set lad. Of course as the chief of the
caravan, I had to pay for all, and there being three camels and five
horses to be carried over, it was certainly a difficult business. It
cannot, therefore, be regarded as a proof of exorbitant demands, that I
had to pay five “dóras,” a sum which in Kúkawa would buy two oxen loads
of Indian corn. I allowed all the people to go before me, in order to
prevent the canoemen from exacting something more from them.
There was considerable difficulty with my large camel-bags, which were
far too large for the canoes, and which several times were in danger of
being upset; for they were so unsteady that the people were obliged to
kneel down on the bottom, and keep their equilibrium by holding with
both hands on the sides of the boat. Fortunately I had laid my tentpoles
at the bottom of the canoe, so that the water did not reach the luggage;
but owing to the carelessness of the Hajji’s companions all his books
were wetted, to his utmost distress; but I saw him afterwards shedding
tears, while he was drying his deteriorated treasures on the sandy beach
of the headland. The horses as they crossed, swimming by the sides of
the canoe, had to undergo great fatigue, but desperate was the struggle
of the camels, which were too obstinate to be guided by the frail
vessels, and had to be pushed through alone, and could only be moved by
the most severe beating; the camel of the Hajji was for a while given up
in despair by the whole party. At length they were induced to cross the
channel, the current carrying them down to a great distance, and our
whole party arrived safe on the sandy beach of the headland, where there
was not a bit of shade. This whole headland for two or three months
every year is covered with water, although its chief part, which was
overgrown with tall reed-grass, was at present about fifteen feet above
the surface.
The river, where we crossed it, was, at the very least, eight hundred
yards broad, and in its channel generally eleven feet deep, and was
liable to rise, under _ordinary_ circumstances, at least thirty, or even
at times fifty feet higher. Its upper course at that time was known to
me, as far as the town of Géwe on the road to Logón; but further on I
had only heard from the natives that it came from the south, or rather
from the S.S.E.
It was a quarter before one o’clock when we left the beach in order to
cross the second river, the Fáro[118], which is stated to come from
Mount Lábul, about seven days’ march to the south. It was at present
about six hundred yards broad, but generally not exceeding two feet in
depth, although almost all my informants had stated to me that the Fáro
was the principal river. The reason of this mistake was, I think, that
they had never seen the two rivers at this place, but observed the Fáro
near Gúrin, where, a little later in the season, it seems to be of an
immense breadth, particularly if they crossed from Bundang; or they were
swayed by the great length of the latter river, which they were
acquainted with in its whole course, while none of them had followed the
upper course of the Bénuwé.
Be this as it may, the current of the Fáro was extremely violent, far
more so than that of the Bénuwé, approaching, in my estimation, a rate
of about five miles, while I would rate the former at about three and a
half miles an hour; the current of the Fáro plainly indicating that the
mountainous region whence it issued was at no great distance. In order
to avoid the strongest part of the current, which swept along the
southern shore, we kept close to a small island, which, however, at
present could still be reached from this side with dry feet. We then
entered upon low meadow land, overgrown with tall reed grass, which a
month later is entirely inundated to such a depth that only the crowns
of the tallest trees are seen rising above the water, of which they bore
unmistakeable traces; the highest line thus marked being about fifty
feet above the present level of the river: for of course the inundation
does not always reach the same height, but varies according to the
greater or less abundance of the rains. The information of my
companions, as well as the evident marks on the ground, left not the
least doubt about the immense rise of these rivers.[119]
For a mile and a half from the present margin of the river, near a large
and beautiful tamarind-tree, we ascended its outer bank, rising to the
height of about thirty feet, the brink of which is not only generally
reached by the immense inundation, but even sometimes overflowed, so
that the people who cross it during the height of the inundation,
leaving the canoes here, have still to make their way through deep
water, covering this highest level.
My companions from Ádamáwa were almost unanimous in spontaneously
representing the waters as preserving their highest level for forty
days, which, according to their accounts, would extend from about the
20th of August till the end of September. This statement of mine, made
not from my own experience, but from the information of the natives, has
been slightly, but indeed very slightly, modified by the experience of
those eminent men who, upon the reports which I forwarded of my
discovery, were sent out by her Majesty’s Government in the “Pleiad,”
and who succeeded in reaching the point down to which I had been able to
delineate the course of the river with some degree of certainty. That
the fall of the river at this point of the junction begins at the very
end of September has been exactly confirmed by these gentlemen, while
with regard to the forty days they have not made any distinct
observation, although there is evidence enough that they experienced
something confirmatory of it.[120]
On leaving the outer bank of the river our way led through a fine park-
like plain, dotted with a few mimosas of middling size, and clear of
underwood. The sides of the path were strewn with skeletons of horses,
marking the line followed by the late expedition of the governor of
Yóla, on its return from Lére, or the Mbána country. Having then entered
upon cultivated ground, we reached the first cluster of huts of the
large straggling village Chabajáure, or Chabajáule, situated in a most
fertile and slightly undulating tract; and having kept along it for
little less than a mile and a half, we took up our quarters in a
solitary and secluded cluster of huts, including a very spacious
courtyard.
It was a sign of warm hospitality that, although the whole caravan had
fallen to the charge of a single household, sufficient quantities not
only of “nyíro,” the common dish of Indian corn, but even of meat, were
brought to us in the evening. While passing the village I had observed
that all the corn on the fields was “geróri,” or _Pennisetum_
(millet—dukhn), a kind of grain originally, it would seem, so strange to
the Fúlbe, that they have not even a word of their own for it, having
only modified a little the Háusa word “géro;” not a single blade of
“baíri,” or sorghum, was to be seen. The scarcity was less felt here
than in the northern districts of the country, and we bought some grain
for our horses as a supply for the next day.
[Sidenote: Thursday, June 19th.]
We started early in the morning, continuing along the straggling hamlets
and rich corn-fields of Chabajáule for a mile and a half, when we passed
two slave villages, or “rúmde,” belonging to a rich Púllo, of the name
of Hanúri. All the meadows were beautifully adorned with white violet-
striped lilies. We then entered a wooded tract, ascending at the same
time considerably on the hilly ground which juts out from the foot of
mount Bágelé, and which allowed us a clearer view of the geological
character of the mountain. Having again emerged from the forest upon an
open, cultivated, and populous district, we passed the large village of
Dulí, and having descended and reascended again we obtained a most
beautiful view near the village Gúroré, which lies on rising ground,
surrounded by a good many large monkey-bread trees, or bodóje (_sing._
bokki.) For from this elevated spot we enjoyed a prospect over the
beautiful meadow lands sloping gently down towards the river, which from
this spot is not much more than five miles distant, taking its course
between Mounts Bengo and Bágelé, and washing the foot of the latter, but
not visible to us. The country continued beautiful and pleasant, and was
here enlivened by numerous herds of cattle, while in the villages which
we had passed I had seen none, as the Fúlbe drive their cattle
frequently to very distant grazing grounds.
While marching along at a good pace, Mohámmedu walked up to me, and with
a certain feeling of pride showed me his fields, “gashí gonakína.”
Though a poor man, he was master of three slaves, a very small fortune
in a conquered and newly colonized country like Ádamáwa, based entirely
upon slavery, where many individuals have each more than a thousand
slaves. I was greatly surprised to see here a remarkable specimen of a
bokki or monkey-bread tree, branching off from the ground into three
separate trunks; at least, I never remember to have seen anything like
it, although the tree is the most common representative of the vegetable
kingdom through the whole breadth of Central Africa. All the ground to
the right of the path is inundated during the height of the flood.
We had now closely approached the Bágelé, the summit of which, though
not very high, is generally enveloped in clouds, a fact which, when
conveyed to me in the obscure language of the natives, had led me to the
misconception while writing in Kúkawa my report of the provisional
information I had obtained of the country whither I was about to
proceed, that this mountain was of volcanic character. It seems to
consist chiefly of granite, and has a very rugged surface, strewn with
great irregular blocks, from between which trees shoot up. Nevertheless,
stretching out to a length of several miles from S.S.E. to N.N.W., it
contains a good many spots of arable land, which support eighteen little
hamlets of independent pagans. These, protected by the inaccessible
character of their strongholds, and their formidable double spears, have
not only been able hitherto to repulse all the attacks which the proud
Mohammedans, the centre of whose government is only a few miles distant,
have made against them, but, descending from their haunts, commit almost
daily depredations upon the cattle of their enemies.[121] One of their
little hamlets, perched on the top of steep cliffs, we could plainly
distinguish by the recently thatched roofs of the huts, the snow-white
colour of which very conspicuously shone forth from the dark masses of
the rock. The country was always gaining in interest as we advanced, the
meadow-lands being covered with living creatures of every description,
such as cattle, horses, asses, goats, and sheep, and we reached the
easternmost cluster of huts of the large straggling village or district
of Ribáwo or Ribágo[122], stretching out on our left on a little rising
ground. The district is not only rich in corn and pasturage, but also in
fish, which are most plentiful in a large inlet or backwater, “illágul,”
as it is called by the Fúlbe, branching off from the river along the
north-east foot of the Bágelé, and closely approaching the village. In
this shallow water the fish are easily caught.
Numbers of inquisitive people of every age and sex, gathered round us
from the neighbouring hamlets; but while hovering round me and the
camels with great delight, they behaved very decently and quietly. They
followed us till we took up our quarters a little before ten o’clock,
with a friend of Bíllama’s, in a large group of huts lying close to the
path, and shaded by most luxuriant trees. Although there were several
clean huts, I preferred the cool and ventilated entrance hall of the
same description as I have mentioned above, and remained here even
during the night, although a most terrible storm, which broke out at six
o’clock in the evening, and lasted full four hours, flooded the whole
ground, and rendered my resting-place rather too cool. I would advise
other travellers not to follow my example during the rainy season, but
rather to make themselves comfortable in the warm interior of a well
protected hut.
In our last march through these rich low grounds, which are every year
flooded by the river, I had not observed the least traces of the
cultivation of rice, for which they seem to be so marvellously adapted,
the cultivation round Ribágo being almost exclusively limited to maiwa
or maiwári, a peculiar species of sorghum called “matëa” in Kanúri. On
inquiring why these people did not grow rice, I learnt that the Fúlbe
hereabouts had all migrated from Bórnu after the downfall of their
jemmára and dominion in that country, when not only were the new
political intruders repulsed, but even the old settlers, who had been
established in that country from very ancient times, were obliged to
emigrate. In Bórnu, however, as I have had occasion to mention before,
no rice is cultivated, so that these people, although at present
established in regions where rice would probably succeed much better
than millet and Indian corn, abstain entirely from its cultivation. On
the other hand, in the western parts of Ádamáwa and in Hamárruwa,
whither the Fúlbe have migrated from Háusa, rice is cultivated to a
considerable extent. On a former occasion I have already touched on the
question, whether rice be indigenous in Negroland or not. It has
evidently been cultivated from time immemorial in the countries along
the middle course of the Ísa, or Kwára, from Kébbi up to Gágho, or Gógó;
but this might seem to be in consequence of a very ancient intercourse
between those regions and Egypt, which I hope to be able to establish in
the course of my narrative. It grows, however, wild in many parts, from
the southern provinces of Bórnu, Bagírmi, and Wadáy, as far north as el
Haúdh and Bághena, on the border of the western desert.
Another important point of which I here became aware was, that the Bátta
language, which, among the numerous languages of Ádamáwa, or rather
Fúmbiná, is the most extensively spoken, has two very different
dialects; for, being anxious to finish my small vocabulary of this
language, which I had commenced in Kúkawa with the assistance of
Mohámmedu, I soon found that the dialect spoken here differed
considerably from that of which I had previously written specimens. The
Bátta language, as I have stated above, is intimately related to the
Marghí and Záni idiom, and bears several points of resemblance to the
Músgu language, which is itself related to the various dialects of
Kótoko. All these languages have some general points of affinity to the
South African languages.
At present, however, the indigenous population is almost totally extinct
in this district, which is exclusively inhabited by the conquerors, who
have here found an abode remarkably suited to their mode of living. The
whole place has not less than 6000 inhabitants.
[Sidenote: Friday, June 20th.]
We started early in order to reach the capital, if possible, before
noon, and passed through several hamlets, all belonging to the extensive
village or district of Ribágo, and interrupted here and there by
projecting masses of schistose rock, while the concavity between this
rising ground and Mount Bágelé was fast filling with the flood from the
river, and presented already a considerable sheet of water. The country,
after we had passed this populous district, became thickly wooded, which
I had not expected to find so near the capital; and, on account of some
ravines which intersect it, and of the neighbourhood of the inlet of the
river, it certainly cannot afford a very easy passage towards the end of
the rainy season. Here also the rock projects above the plain in many
places.
About eight o’clock, when we had travelled round the south-western foot
of Mount Bágelé, we passed through a number of small hamlets, which
however did not exhibit any traces of cultivation, and then again
entered upon a wild tract, while we obtained a glance at a
picturesquely-seated place before us, which I unhesitatingly took for
Yóla, but which proved to be a small village situated at a considerable
distance from the capital. Before we reached it, we had to cross a sheet
of water nearly five feet deep, and called by my companions “Máyo
Bínti,” which caused us a great deal of trouble and delay, and wetted
almost all my luggage. The water, which at present had no current,
skirts the foot of the rocky slope on which the village is situated, the
name of which is Yebbórewó. Here our camels created an extraordinary
interest, and a great many women, although we did not attend to their
wish to stop, managed to pass under the bellies of these tall creatures,
in the hope of obtaining their blessing, as they thought them sacred
animals.
Having kept along the rising ground, and passed several little hamlets
adorned with monkey-bread trees, we had to cross very difficult swampy
ground, which, a little later in the season, must be avoided by a long
circuit. Two months later Mount Bágelé must look almost like an island,
so surrounded is it on all sides by deep inlets and swamps. The detached
cone of Mount Takabéllo, rising to a height of about a thousand feet
above the plain, for some time formed a conspicuous object in front of
us on our winding path, till at length, a little before noon, we reached
the outskirts of the capital in a state of mind not exempt from anxious
feeling.
[Footnote 115: I heard the name pronounced in this way, but lower down
it may be pronounced Bí-nuwé. However, I have to remark that Mr.
Petermann changed the é into an í, from mere mistake; and I do not know
whether the members of the Chádda expedition had sufficient authority
for writing the name in this way. The word belongs to the Batta
language, where water is called “beé,” or “bé;” but in kindred dialects
it is called “bí.” “Nuwé” means the mother; and the whole name means
“mother of water.” The name, therefore, properly is of the feminine
gender.]
[Footnote 116: “Tépe” is a Púllo, or rather Fulfúlde word, meaning
“junction,” “confluence,” which by the Western Fúlbe would be called
“fottérde máje.” In Háusa the name is “magángamú.”]
[Footnote 117: That this river is anywhere really called Chádda, or even
Tsádda, I doubt very much; and I am surprised that the members of the
late expedition in the “Pleiad” do not say a word on this point. I think
the name Chádda was a mere mistake of Lander’s, confirmed by Allen,
owing to their fancying it an outlet of Lake Tsád.]
[Footnote 118: I did not even once hear this name pronounced Páro, but
lower down it may be so; for, as I have had several times occasion to
state, _p_ and _f_, or rather _ph_, are frequently confounded in
Negroland, just as _r_ and _l_, _dh_ and _l_ or _r_.]
[Footnote 119: This immense rise of the river agrees perfectly with the
experience of Messrs. Laird and Oldfield, who, from absolute
measurement, found the difference in the level of the water at Idda in
the course of the year nearly 60 feet. See their Journal, vol. ii. p.
276., and p. 420. note, “57 to 60 feet.”]
[Footnote 120: There was a very serious discrepancy amongst those
gentlemen with regard to the fall of the river. Dr. Baikie states, in
his journal which recently appeared, p. 230., that “the water first
showed _decided_ signs of falling about the 3rd of October, and by the
5th the decrease was very perceptible.” If, therefore, the river began
to fall at Zhibu on the 3rd of October, the fall would commence at the
Tépe, more than 200 miles higher up along the windings of the river, at
least three days before, if we take the current at three miles an hour.
My statement, therefore, that the river begins _decidedly_ to fall at
the confluence at the very end of September, has been singularly
confirmed. But that there is also some truth with regard to the long
continuance of the highest level, is evident from the _conflicting_
observations of the party. (See Baikie’s Journal, p. 217.) Indeed the
sailing-master insisted that the river had fallen long before; and all
the people were puzzled about it. From all this I must conclude that _my
statement_ with regard to the river, instead of having been considerably
modified by the expedition, _has been confirmed by their experience in
all its principal points_. We shall see the same difficulty recur with
regard to a maximum level preserved for forty days by the western river,
although the time when it begins to fall is entirely different; and as
to the latter river, not only I, but the natives also were mistaken with
respect to its presumed time of falling. The same is the case with the
(river) Shári, and is natural enough, considering the extensive
inundations with which the rise of these African rivers is attended.
This state of the rivers in the tropical climes is so irregular, that
Leo Africanus has made quite the same observation. L. i. c. 28.,
Descrizione dell’ Africa.]
[Footnote 121: I leave this passage as it stood in my journal, although
it describes a state of things which now, in 1857, belongs to the past.
This stronghold also has at length been taken by the intruders, and the
seat of happiness and independence converted into a region of
desolation. In 1853, two years after my journey to Ádamáwa, Mohammed
Lowel left his residence with a great host, having sworn not to return
before he had reduced Bágelé. After a siege of almost two months, with
the assistance of a few muskets, he succeeded in conquering the
mountaineers, and reducing them to slavery. The chief of the pagans of
the Bágelé, who belong to the Batta tribe, in the height of his power
exercised paramount authority over the neighbouring tribes, and is said
to have even had the “_jus primæ noctis_.”]
[Footnote 122: Ribágo, sometimes contracted to the form Ribáwo, means “a
governor’s country-seat.”]
CHAP. XXXVI.
MY RECEPTION IN YÓLA. — SHORT STAY. — DISMISSAL.
At length I had reached the capital of Ádamáwa, having had altogether a
very lucky and successful journey; but now all depended upon the manner
in which I should be received in this place: for although it was quite
enough to have successfully penetrated so far, after having discovered
and crossed the upper course of that large river, about the identity of
which with the Chadda there could be little doubt, I entertained the
hope that I might be allowed to penetrate further south, and investigate
at least part of the basin of the river. I had heard so much about the
fertile character of those regions, that I was intensely desirous to see
something of them.