just during the heat of the day. The streets were almost deserted; and
no person met us in order to impart to us, by a friendly welcome, a
feeling of cheerfulness and confidence.
Yóla is a large open place, consisting, with a few exceptions, of
conical huts surrounded by spacious courtyards, and even by corn-fields,
the houses of the governor and those of his brothers being alone built
of clay. Keeping along the principal street, we continued our march for
a mile and a quarter before we reached the house of the governor, which
lies on the west side of a small open area, opposite the mosque, a flat
oblong building, or rather hall, inclosed with clay walls, and covered
with a flat thatched roof a little inclined on one side. Having reached
this place, my companions fired a salute, which, considering the nature
of Bíllama’s mission, and the peculiar character of the governor, which
this officer ought to have known, and perhaps also since it happened to
be Friday, was not very judicious.
Be this as it may, the courtiers or attendants of the governor,
attracted by the firing, came out one after another, and informed us
that their master must go to the mosque and say his mid-day prayers[123]
before he could attend to us or assign us quarters. We therefore
dismounted and sat down in the scanty shade of a jéja or caoutchouc-
tree, which adorns the place between the palace and the mosque, while a
great number of people, amounting to several hundreds, gradually
collected, all eager to salute me and shake hands with me. Fortunately,
it was not long before Lowel came out from his palace and went into the
mosque; and then I obtained a few moments’ respite, the people all
following him, with the exception of the young ones, who very luckily
found the camels a worthier object of their curiosity than me. It had
been my intention to salute the governor when he was crossing the place,
but I was advised not to do so, as it might interfere with his
devotional feelings.
The prayer was short; and when it was over I was surrounded by much
larger numbers than before, and, being fatigued and hungry, I felt
greatly annoyed by the endless saluting and shaking of hands. At length
we were ordered to take up our quarters in the house of Ardo Ghámmawa, a
brother of our fellow-traveller Ibrahíma; but this being close to the
east end of the town, we were not much pleased with the arrangement, as
it not only obliged us for the moment to return the whole way we had
come, but also for the future deprived us of an unreserved and friendly
intercourse with the governor. This was not calculated to inspire us
with confidence as to the success of our proceedings.
It was past two o’clock in the afternoon when at length I reached my
quarters and took possession of a large, well-ventilated, and neat
“záure,” or hall, the walls of which were all painted. In the inner
courtyard there was also a very neat and snug little hut, but that was
all, and we had great trouble in obtaining quarters for Bú-Sʿad and the
mʿallem in some of the neighbouring courtyards. I felt rather fatigued
and not quite at my ease, and therefore could not much enjoy a dish of
an extremely good pudding of bairi or sorghum, with excellent clear
butter, and a large bowl of milk; but nevertheless, although a storm,
accompanied with much rain, broke out in the evening and rendered the
air rather humid, I remained the whole night where I was, instead of
retiring into the well-protected though rather sultry hut.
[Sidenote: Saturday, June 21st.]
In the morning I selected my presents for the governor, the principal
part of which consisted of a very handsome red cloth bernús, which we
had found among the things left by the late Mr. Richardson; but when we
were ready to go we received the information that Lowel was in his
fields, and that we could not see him. Meanwhile I received a visit from
an Arab from the far distant west, with whom I had made acquaintance in
Kúkawa, and who had given me some very valuable information. It was El
Mukhtár, of the tribe of the Idésan in Bághena, who had previously paid
a visit to Ádamáwa, and was well acquainted with the country. It is
always very pleasant for a traveller to meet another roving spirit
somewhere again, particularly in a country like Central Africa. Having
acknowledged his visit by the gift of a knife and a little frankincense,
I presented our host, the Ardo Ghámmawa, with a fine “ríga gíwa” (an
“elephant-shirt”)—that is to say, one of those enormous wide black
shirts made only in Núpe, and which was one of the few articles which I
had been able to provide in Kanó for the furtherance of my plans. The
family of the Ardo had formerly been settled in Ghámmawa, in the south-
western province of Bórnu, but, when the Fúlbe were driven back from
that country, emigrated and settled here. But this man still bears the
title “Ardo Ghámmawa”—“the mayor of (the Fúlbe community of) Ghámmawa.”
Having been told that the governor had returned to his palace, we
mounted on horseback about ten o’clock, and, preceded by the Ardo
Ghámmawa, returned the long way to the lamórde or palace; but after
waiting on the damp ground, exposed to the sun for more than an hour, we
were told that we could not see him, and were obliged to return with our
present. I was greatly vexed, and felt, in consequence, my fever
increasing, especially as another very heavy storm broke out in the
afternoon, when the air became quite chilly. However, I was somewhat
cheered by making acquaintance in the afternoon with an Arab from Mokha,
of the name of Mohammed ben Áhmed, who styled himself sheríf, most
probably rather pleonastically; but, apart from such pretension, he was
an amiable and most interesting man, who had travelled for many years
over the whole eastern coast of the continent between Mombása and
Sofála. He was the first to satisfy my curiosity with a description of
the celebrated Lake Nyassa as an eye-witness. He had even visited Bombay
and Madras.
[Sidenote: Sunday, June 22nd.]
In consequence of the information received from Ardo Ghámmawa that to-
day we were certainly to see the governor, we got ready at an early
hour, taking with us also a present for his brother Mansúr, who had made
himself expressly a candidate for a present, by sending me, the day
before, a small pot of honey. While we were passing his house, he was
coming out to pay his respects to his brother. We made a short halt and
exchanged compliments with him; and when, on reaching the area before
the governor’s house, we had dismounted and were sitting down in the
shade of the tree, he walked most benignly and frankly up, and sat down
in front of me. We then entered the palace; and having waited a short
time in the segífa or záure, which here was formed by a spacious flat-
roofed room supported by massive square pillars, we were called into the
presence of the governor.
[Illustration]
Mohammed Lowel[124], son of Mʿallem Ádama, was sitting in a separate
hall, built of clay, and forming, for this country, quite a noble
mansion. From without especially, it has a stately, castle-like
appearance, while inside, the hall was rather encroached upon by
quadrangular pillars two feet in diameter, which supported the roof,
about sixteen feet high, and consisting of a rather heavy entablature of
poles, in order to withstand the violence of the rains. The governor was
very simply dressed, and had nothing remarkable in his appearance, while
his face, which was half-covered by a somewhat dirty shawl, had an
indifferent expression. Besides him there were none present but Mansúr
and a mʿallem.
Having, as the first European that had ever visited his country with the
distinct purpose to enter into friendly relations with him, paid him my
respects on behalf of my countrymen, I delivered my letter of
introduction from Sheikh ʿOmár, who in a few but well-chosen lines
introduced me to him as a learned and pious Christian, who wandered
about to admire the works of the Almighty Creator, and on this account
cherished an ardent desire to visit also Ádamáwa, of the wonders of
which I had heard so much. Lowel read it, and evidently not quite
displeased with its contents, although he took umbrage at some of the
expressions, handed it silently over to the mʿallem and Mansúr. Hereupon
Bíllama delivered his letters, of which not only the contents, but even
the very existence had been totally unknown to me. They were three in
number, one from the sheikh himself, one from Malá Ibrám, the former
possessor of the southern province of Bórnu, and one from Kashélla ʿAli
Déndal, or Ladán, the officer who by his late predatory incursion had
given grounds for complaint.
As soon as these various letters were read, all of which laid claim, on
the side of Bórnu, to the territory of Kófa and Kóbchi, a storm arose,
and in a fit of wrath Lowel reproached my companion with daring to come
forward with such pretensions—he, who was himself well-acquainted with
the country and with the point in dispute. If Sheikh ʿOmár wished for
discord, well: he was ready; and they would harass each other’s
frontier-provinces by reciprocal incursions. Having given vent to his
feelings towards Bíllama, his anger turned upon me; and he told me to my
face that I had quite different reasons for coming into his country from
those stated in Sheikh ʿOmár’s letter; referring to some ambiguous words
in Malá Ibrám’s writing, in which that officer stated “that, with regard
to me, the objects of my journey to Ádamáwa were a perfect secret to
him.” Now I must confess, after all my acquaintance with the politics of
these people, and notwithstanding all Háj Beshír’s kindness and
benevolence towards me, that I think the Bórnu diplomatists quite
capable of a little double dealing; that is to say, I suspect that they
were willing to make use of me to frighten the governor of Ádamáwa.
Perhaps also they were afraid lest, if I should succeed in Ádamáwa, I
might not return to their country. I shall have to mention similar
circumstances on my journey to Bagírmi. Viewing matters in this light, I
wrote from Kúkawa, requesting Her Majesty’s government to inform the
sheikh of Bórnu that it was their distinct desire that we should
penetrate onwards, and that he would confer an obligation upon them by
facilitating the execution of our plans.
Be this as it may, after a long dispute with regard to the boundaries,
in which my friend from Mokha, and a learned native of Wadáy, Móde ʿAbd
Alláhi, who was employed by Lowel as a sort of secretary of state for
foreign affairs, took part, I, with my party, was ordered to withdraw
for a time. After sitting for full two hours on the damp ground outside,
we received an intimation that we might return home. Thus I had to
return with my presents a second time to my quarters; and of course I
was greatly vexed. However, several people who saw my emotion
endeavoured to console me; and Mansúr, who before we left came out of
his brother’s audience-hall, entered into conversation with me, and
assured me that this unkind treatment in no way related to me, but that
it was only intended for Bíllama, the officer of Bórnu. There was
present also the very amiable mʿallem whom I had met in Saráwu Fulfúlde,
and who had come after us; and I felt sorry that I was not disposed to
answer his well-meant discourse in the manner it deserved.
When we reached Mansúr’s house, he invited us to dismount, and entering
the interior of his wide and neat dwelling we had a long and animated
conversation, when I explained to him in a deliberate manner that such
treatment did not offend me on my own account, but on account of the
government—the very first and most powerful in the world—which had sent
me; that instead of coming with hostile intentions, as was imputed to
me, I had come with the friendly design of paying my respects to the
governor on behalf of the British sovereign, and to present him with a
few specimens of our products and manufactures; that I had, no doubt, at
the same time an intense desire to see their country, as it was the
avowed purpose of Europeans in general, and of the English in
particular, to become acquainted, and to open intercourse, with all
parts of God’s creation.
Mansúr explained to me, in return, that they well knew that I had not
come to make war upon them, although Lowel, in the first fit of his
anger, scarcely seemed to suspect anything less than that, “but that
they were vexed because I had come to them under the protection of the
Bórnu people, their enemies.” A letter from the sultan of Stambúl, or
even from my own sovereign, would have recommended me much more
advantageously. The sheikh had expressly designated me as one
recommended and protected by the Porte, and Bú-Sʿad had mentioned, with
a slight disregard of the real facts, that through inadvertence only I
had left both letters, as well that from the sultan of Stambúl, as from
the English sovereign, in Kúkawa. Now I certainly had with me a treaty
written in Arabic, such as it was desirable that the governor of Ádamáwa
should subscribe; but to produce this under existing circumstances would
have been absurd, especially as it did not emanate directly from the
Government, and was not authenticated, either by seal or in any other
way, and I thought it better not to mention it. It was no bad policy on
the part of Bú-Sʿad to represent me as sent on a special mission by the
British government to the Fúlbe princes, and as obliged only by the
death of my companion to deviate from my intended course, in order to
supply his place in Kúkawa.
Meanwhile it was past mid-day; and after a stormy night the sun shone
forth with overpowering force, while we sat all the while in an open
courtyard without the least protection. On reaching my quarters, I was
so exhausted and ill that I thought I could do nothing better than take
without delay a powerful emetic, after which I felt much better, but
rather weak. Having somewhat restored my spirits by a conversation with
Mohammed ben Áhmed, I retired into the close hut, and had a sound sleep.
Monday having passed quietly, with the exception of a great many people
calling for “laiya” or charms, and for medicines, Tuesday the 24th
arrived, when it was my destiny to leave this country, which I had but
just entered, and to retrace my steps over the long and infested road
which I had lately travelled.
I felt tolerably well in the morning, but afterwards became very ill,
and unfortunately took too weak a dose of medicine. In this state I had
a visit from two very handsome and amiable young Fúlbe, and in my rather
morose mood refused their urgent request, made in the most simple and
confidential way, to say the “fat-ha,” or the opening prayer of the
Kurán, with them. I have always regretted my refusal, as it estranged
from me a great many people; and although many Christians will object to
repeat the prayer of another creed, yet the use of a prayer of so
general an import as the introductory chapter to the Kurán ought to be
permitted to every solitary traveller in these regions, in order to form
a sort of conciliatory link between him and the natives.
After some other visitors had come and gone, I received, about ten
o’clock, a formal visit from Móde ʿAbd-Alláhi, the foreign secretary,
and my friend from Mokha, in the name of the governor. Having moistened
their organs with a cup of coffee, they acquitted themselves of their
message in the following terms, “The sultan”—all these provincial
governors bear the title of sultan—“had ordered them,” they said, “to
beg me to accept his most respectful regards, and to inform me that he
was nothing but a slave of the sultan of Sókoto, and that I was a far
greater man than himself. As such a man had never before come to his
country, he was afraid of his liege lord, and begged me to retrace my
steps whither I had come; but if in course of time I should return with
a letter from Sókoto, he would receive me with open arms, would converse
with me about all our science, and about our instruments, without
reserve, and would show me the whole country.”
To this message, which was certainly couched in very modest and
insinuating terms, I answered that Mohammed Lowel, so far from being a
slave of the sultan of Sókoto, was renowned far and wide as the almost
independent governor of a large province; that the fame of his father
Ádama, as a nobly-born, learned Púllo, extended far and wide throughout
Tekrúr, or Negroland, and had even reached our own country; that it was
absurd to argue that I was greater than himself, and that on this
account he could not receive me on his own responsibility, but was
obliged to refer my suit to his liege lord in Sókoto.[125] I brought
forward the examples of Kátsena and Kanó, especially the latter place,
in which, though it was the seat of a governor dependent on the Emír el
Múmenín, in the same way as the governor of Ádamáwa, I had long resided,
without any representations being made to the sovereign lord. “Oh! but
the relations of Kátsena and Kanó,” said the messengers of the governor,
“are entirely different from those of this province. These are large and
busy thoroughfares for all the world, while Ádamáwa is a distant
territory in the remotest corner of the earth, and still a fresh,
unconsolidated conquest.” There was certainly some truth in this last
remark; and whatever I might say to the contrary, the question was
decided, and all reasoning was in vain.
The two messengers having gone through their business in this way,
informed me that they were only the forerunners of the real messenger,
Mansúr, the brother of the governor. This was very pleasant news to me;
and although, after this shock of disappointment, I felt extremely ill
and weak, I rose from my couch, and went to receive Mansúr, when he
arrived at the door of the hut. He then officially, and in a very
feeling manner, confirmed all that Móde ʿAbd-Alláhi and the sheríf
Mohammed had said, and expressed his deep regret that I was not allowed
to stay. When he was going, I handed to his servants the little present
destined for him, which consisted of twenty-five drʿa of striped
Manchester, a pair of English razors, scissors, a looking-glass, a
parcel of cloves, a little jáwi, or benzoin, and a small piece of
camphor.
Mansúr had been gone a little while when I received information that the
governor had sent me a horse and two slaves as a present, with the
intimation that I might likewise let him have the present which I had
brought with me for him. But this I refused to do, declaring that I
could not, under the present circumstances, either accept from him or
give him anything, not having come as a merchant to barter with him, but
as the messenger of another powerful sovereign, to treat with him on
friendly terms. My servant, Bú-Sʿad, who, in the covetousness of his
heart, already fancied himself in the possession of the two slaves, whom
he knew well I myself could not accept, but whom he thought I would give
up to him, went so far as to declare that as the present had come from
my sovereign I had no alternative but to bestow it. But seeing that I
was firm, the messengers went away, and soon after a horseman arrived
with the order for me to leave the town instantly.
Meanwhile, during all this negotiation and dispute, I had become
extremely weak, and the excitement had brought on a very severe fit of
fever. Indeed I scarcely thought that I should be able to sit on
horseback, and to bear the sun, it being then just noon, and the sun
shining forth with great power. Nevertheless I got my things ready; but
having left my quarters a little too soon, and being obliged to wait
some time for the other people, I became so weak that I could no longer
keep on my feet, but lay down on the ground till my companions arrived.
Sitting then firmly in my large Arab stirrups, and holding on to the
pommel, I proceeded; and though I fainted twice, I soon regained some
strength, a slight breeze having arisen, which greatly mitigated the
burning heat.
Numbers of people accompanied me, expressing their grief and sorrow at
my abrupt departure. By my refusing to write laiya, or to say the fat-
ha, I had estranged many a friendly-disposed native, and by my obstinacy
I had incurred the displeasure of their master; yet many of the people
openly disapproved of his conduct towards me.
An immense quantity of rain having fallen during my stay here, the
country appeared to me much more beautiful now than when we came, and
full of fine cattle; and I felt so refreshed that I considered myself
able to go as far as Ribágo, a ride of six hours, at a slow rate.
Bíllama behaved exceedingly well; for when my treacherous servant
Bú-Sʿad, who was afraid lest Mohammed Lowel should wreak his anger upon
me on the road, intimated to him, that “if anything of that sort should
happen, they of course were Moslemín”—thus indicating that they could
not defend me against those of their own creed, but should leave me to
my fate,—he indignantly left his company and rode up to me. Thus,
without any accident, except that all my luggage was once more wetted
through while passing the deep water of the máyo Bínti, we reached the
friendly village, where without ceremony I took up my quarters in the
well-known courtyard of our former host. But, before proceeding further
on my journey back, I must try to make the reader better acquainted with
the country, though the abrupt way in which I was obliged to leave it
allows me only, in most cases, to speak from the information of the
natives.
Yóla is the capital of an extensive province, called by foreigners
generally, and by the conquering Fúlbe in diplomatic language, Ádamáwa,
but the real name of which is Fúmbiná. Indeed Ádamáwa is quite a new
name given to the country (exactly as I stated in my report sent to
Europe some years ago) in honour of Mʿallem Ádama, the father of the
present governor, who succeeded in founding here a new Mohammedan empire
on the ruins of several smaller pagan kingdoms, the most considerable of
which was that of Kókomi. Whether what the people used to say be true,
that the name of the wife of this officer was Ádama too, I am not able
positively to decide.[126]
Yóla is quite a new settlement, called by this name after the princely
quarter of the town of Kanó,—the former capital, of which Denham’s
expedition heard some faint report, being Gúrin. Yóla is situated in a
swampy plain, and is bordered on the north side by an inlet of the
river, the inundation of which reaches close to that quarter where I was
living. The town is certainly not less than three miles long from east
to west. It seems probable that there are different names for the
different quarters; but my stay was too short to allow me to learn them.
The courtyards are large and spacious, but often contain only a single
hut, the whole area being sown with grain during the rainy season. All
the huts are built with clay walls on account of the violence of the
rains, and are tolerably high. Only the governor and his elder brothers
possess large establishments with dwellings built entirely of clay.
Notwithstanding its size, the place can hardly contain more than twelve
thousand inhabitants.
It has no industry; and the market, at least during the time of my stay
there, was most insignificant and miserably supplied: but certainly
during the season of field labours, as I have already had occasion to
observe, all the markets in Negroland are less important than at other
times of the year. The most common objects in the market, which find
ready sale, are túrkedí, beads, and salt[127], while other articles,
such as striped Manchester, calico, cloth bernúses, are generally sold
privately to the wealthier people. The only articles of export at
present are slaves and ivory. Four good túrkedí, bought in Kanó for 1800
or 2000 kurdí each, will generally purchase a slave; and a túrkedí will
often buy an elephant’s tusk of tolerable size.