Chapter XI: In Baguezan Mountains

I had no sooner departed outside the immediate neighbourhood of the Fort of Agades, in commencing the journey to Baguezan, as described in the preceding chapter, than the Chief, Minerou, and his glib-tongued companions, who had all put their heads together-even the two goumiers joining in—endeavoured to dissuade me from my purpose to climb into Baguezan Mountains, and strongly advised my return to Agades. Their chief argument was that the camels carrying my stores could not possibly ascend the mountain pass. From which I judged that they were foolishly suspicious of the stranger, and did not want me to pry into their mountain stronghold. They kept up plying me with similar doubtful stories for the next three days, by which time we had camped at Arra, whereafter they desisted, seeing that I would on no account be shaken in my purpose before I had actually seen the pass in Baguezan. The following days of sheep hunting with the Chief brought us more closely together and enabled me to break down, at least outwardly, the barrier of distrust of me; until, in a moment of confidence, seeing that I would not be hoodwinked, he went so far as to admit that the ascent into Baguezan, for me and my stores, could be accomplished.

So that it transpired that on 6th May we climbed the slopes of Baguezan and entered the strange, awesome mountain stronghold.

There are, the natives declare, but two ways by which camels can enter Baguezan mountains: one in the southern slopes above a camping-place known to the natives as Tokede, which is the principal pass and that which we used, while the other (the only other pass I have seen, which endorses, to some extent, native statements) lies N.W., and is a means of exit to, or entrance from, the north, which is principally used at the present time by natives passing between Baguezan and Timia. Both are rocky, awkward paths, no wider than game-tracks, that wend their way zigzagging upward over steep slopes where foothold for beasts of burden has been searched for and found possible, while in many rough places the path has been hewn and excavated by the hands of men where it has been necessary.

Slowly the surefooted patient mountain-reared camels of Aïr succeed in ascending or descending these paths, sometimes slipping and falling to their knees, so treacherous the foothold, and always some beasts of the caravan make the journey at the expense of torn nails and bleeding feet.

When we had climbed half-way up Baguezan and had paused on a short levelled stretch to rest the distressed camels and their rock-bruised feet, as was necessary from time to time, I turned back and looked below, and out before me to the very horizon, on scenes the like of which in colouring and utter strangeness I had never witnessed before: to the west lay the mountains Tchebishrie, Aouderas, and Arra, and a score of others that are unnamed, all dark and towering and majestic; while in the forefront the rough lowland over which we had travelled now looked, from a height, like level flats, barren and blackish (on account of the porous lava rock and hard round pebbles which cover the land), as if they had been swept by fire and only the ash remained. The scenes are overflowing with a strange drear greyness, that fills the heart of man with sadness, except where deep ravines run out from the mountains and draw therefrom thin lines that have sometimes their beginning in the brightness of dum palms, or “Abisgee” bushes, which grow on dry river-banks of certain fertility, and which trend to lines of sand colour and the dull greyness of leafless acacias as they die away in the far distance of the lowland.

In four hours we had ascended to the summit, and were upon a plateau covered with innumerable rocky hills, through which we wandered in and out where passage for the camels was possible, and two hours later reached the small village of Tasessat, hidden in the hills, where I decided to pitch a permanent collecting-camp.

Baguezan mountains might be said to be two storeys high, the great plateau being the line of the first and principal level, whence arise countless hills with summits of various elevations. The altitude of Tasessat village, which is on the plateau, is 5,200 ft., about 2,000 ft. above the land at the mountain base of Baguezan, while a hill named Tarusszgreet, which is the highest rising from the plateau, has an altitude of 6,050 ft.

The plateau of Baguezan is perplexing to describe adequately. There are countless ranges of hills, sometimes with narrow sand-flats and river-beds between; massive hills formed of giant grey granite boulders, and others not nearly so numerous—with rounded summits and a surface of apparent overlappings and down-pourings of smooth loose reddish and grey fragments, as if the peaks were of volcanic origin, though no craters are there. But it is the formation of the many hills of giant granite boulders that make the scenes so astonishing, so rugged, and so unique—you might be on the roughest sea coast in the world, and not find scenes to surpass those here in desolation and wildness. They are hills that appear to the eye as if a mighty energy underneath had at some time heaved and shouldered boulder upon boulder of colossal proportion into position, until huge, wide-based, solid masses were raised upon the plateau. On the other hand there are instances where hills appear as if the forces underneath had built their edifice badly, and in a manner not fit to withstand the ravages of time, and those are places where part of the pile has apparently collapsed, and there remains a bleak cliff face and the ruins of rocks at the foot. Between the hills the narrow defiles which make up the plateau level are, in general, small places of sand, where scattered acacias grow (some to a fair height), and where, in certain places, dry shallow sandy stream-beds find a course: also there are flats, with ground surface of pebbles, which are bare as the hills that invest them.

From the plateau, or even from the lower hills, it is impossible to obtain a fair conception of the area of Baguezan mountains, since an extensive view is blocked in all directions by the hills which surround one on all sides. But from the top of Tarusszgreet a splendid view may be obtained. The great hill-bearing plateau is about 25 miles in diameter, with an edge that, viewed from the commanding height of Tarusszgreet, appears almost as round as a tea-cup. Looking down on the land on all sides from this pinnacle that permits an unbroken view north, south, east, and west, the scene is a memorable and a striking one: rocks, boulders, and grave greyness predominate all else, for, as far as an eye can see within the limits of Baguezan, nearly the whole land is one of barren hills—barren, that is, of fertility, but not of wild native beauty, even impressiveness. It strikes one most forcibly as a place of fearful poverty, but, even though the blackness of the grey rocks so strongly predominates, there are, as in the country south of Baguezan, brighter scenes on a miniature scale in the pleasant little basins or sandy pockets on the plateau, where, in places, the line of a dry stream-bed may be traced, and where straggling acacias stand darkly dotted against a buffish sandy background. Be the eye attracted to the broad masses of grey hills, or to the little gleams of golden sand, the view from the lofty height of Tarusszgreet, somewhat vaguely sad though it be, captures the appreciation of the mountaineer, who cannot help, unless he be an unresponsive soul indeed, being enraptured with the wonderful space of earth and sky which his position for the moment commands, and with the details of a hundred mysterious scenes contained within the miniature kingdom that lies beneath his feet. Particularly at sunrise or sunset is the view fair, when short-lived lights rest on the broad rugged surface of mountain-side scene, and dip delicately into the valleys to be absorbed by lurking shadows. Those are precious moments in a day, or, might I say, in a lifetime?

There is much beauty in Africa, though that is a circumstance which, I believe, we do not often realise or speak about, because, I fear, beauty is often missed, or at least fails to receive full appreciation, since, to view any fair picture with full and generous reflection, the individual or audience should be in the cleanness of health and good spirits that lead to enthusiasm and energy and praise; and, alas, such a state of mind is all too seldom the white man’s lot beneath a sun that is hourly tapping his precious store of vitality.

In ascending to the plateau of Baguezan, one enters a secretive stronghold of a small band of Tuaregs, and I think it is because Baguezan is a natural fortification, for the most part inaccessible to robbers or to any stranger, that we to-day find any natives living in Aïr north of Agades and its immediate neighbourhood. I have said elsewhere that Timia, Aouderas, and Baguezan are the only places now inhabited in Aïr north of Agades, and both Timia and Aouderas are near to the foot of Baguezan, so that, when robbers threaten, the camels of the inhabitants of those two places can, if the danger warrants, be driven on to the plateau for safety, while the natives scatter broadcast among the rocks—a procedure which occurred once while I was there.

There are in Baguezan mountains at the present time six tiny villages. They are: Tasessat, the chief village where I camped, whence radiate the bearings given below; Argargar, about 8 miles distant from Tasessat, on a bearing of 330°; Ouwari, on the same bearing, not far from Tasessat, on the track to Argargar; Egulubilub, 3 to 4 miles from Tasessat, on a bearing of 140°; Emuludi, on the same bearing, about one mile distant from Tasessat; Atkaki, near Tasessat, on a bearing of 220°. Excepting Tasessat, none of these villages are on any map I possess.

The dwellings now in use in the villages are mere tiny, gipsy-like sun-shelters of a type common to the inhabitants of Aïr. They are constructed with lathes of wood bent over to form a dome framework, which is round in plan and a half-round in elevation. Upon the framework hay-grass is laced securely, or skins, to keep out sun and a certain amount of sand-dust. They are no higher than permits an average man to stand upright inside, while the floor space can little more than accommodate two or three outstretched forms. Gipsy-like, they are not in any degree extravagant in labour of construction or in expenditure of material, from which it may be gathered that the natives are lazy and material scarce.

There are a number of stone-built dwellings at Tasessat and elsewhere, but nowhere are they occupied by the natives, who have allowed them to relapse to a state of ruin. Whether those strange old dwellings belonged to a race which at one time the Tuaregs conquered, or to their own ancestors, I do not know, though I am inclined to think that they are of Hausa origin. At all events, they belong solely to the Past, when, at some time or other, there were many people in the Baguezan mountains, for in numerous places are to be found the old sites of villages where huts were built of stone: in some cases the whole village completely overthrown, in others a few skeletons of huts standing. Also there are many strange old graveyards, sometimes near an old village site, sometimes where no sign of dwelling-place remains. They are usually on a level stony piece of ground, chosen, I surmise, because jackals cannot scrape down through such a surface, and the graves, which have lain there through ages, are still marked with mounds of pebbles heaped body-length, or with borders of selected stones laid out in the shape of a coffin; while in some cases the wood poles, which support the stones laid over the grave, have given out, and the grave lies partly open.

The natives of to-day point to ruins of this kind, and tell, with a very real ring of sadness in their voices, that they mark the full and awful extent of decline in population—the ravages of war and the pillage at the hands of raiders who, even to-day, descend upon the hapless decadent people to steal their camels and take their young men and women into slavery.

Minerou and the old headman of Tasessat declare that natives of Baguezan of the present time have not fled or been driven to the low country in the south. Such a thing could not possibly be, they say, “for there are no mountains there, and how could we live without them?”—true mountain people, the land of their birth dear to their hearts as their freedom.

To-day there are altogether only 40 male Tuaregs in Baguezan mountains; that is, adult men at the head of a family.

According to native statement, there has never been, in living memory, an English-speaking white man in Baguezan before; and no one, they say, has camped or roamed about the hills as I have done, in which event I trust this humble description of the place may hold some particular interest. Old natives say that, previous to my visit, there have been, in all, three white men in Baguezan: French officers who have had occasion to enter Baguezan in course of performing duty, and who did not remain there any length of time.

The natives of Baguezan, like all natives of Aïr, get the grain which is their principal food chiefly from Tanout and district, a journey of about 496 miles altogether, outward and homeward. It is transported by caravans of camels. On some occasions the natives carry south with them, to market, dates, which they get chiefly from Fachi, but a few from Aïr, and goat hides. Fachi, and also Bilma, are oases on the desert east of Aïr. Fachi, according to the natives, is fifteen days’ caravan journey from Baguezan, and Bilma 30 days’ journey. Both places are very well known to the natives of the territory, for it is chiefly from those places that they obtain salt for themselves and their camels.

With regard to the climate of Baguezan, the inhabitants say that they have no snow in the mountains at any time, but there is ice in the cold season (about November). Personally I have witnessed a shower of large hailstones in Baguezan, similar to occurrences of the kind witnessed in South Africa and during a Canadian summer, when such hail-showers sometimes fall in the course of a particularly violent thunderstorm. To one who comes from the stifling hot desert, the remarkable clearness of the air of Baguezan gives untold delight, while the coolness of morning and evening in the mountains goes far toward reviving drooping vitality. In my case I often look back and doubt if I could have completed the undertaking without a disastrous breakdown had I not had the good fortune to pick up a new store of vigour during my stay among the mountain-tops of Baguezan.

I noted the following temperatures during the month of May: daybreak, 60°, 62°, 68°, 74° Fahr.; noon, 96° Fahr.; sundown, 80°, 76°, 74° Fahr.

I hope to describe the Tuaregs of Aïr in a later chapter, and for the moment, so far as the natives of Baguezan are concerned, may briefly say that they are true mountain people, not very tall, sturdily built, strong in wind and limb, and extraordinarily active in hill-climbing. But they are cunning, shifty, and suspicious people, and I never felt I was made a friend among them; and Baguezan, up to the present, ranks as the one place where I have felt frustrated in overtures toward friendship with the local inhabitants. I hunted in Baguezan from 6th May to 7th June, but my feeling of insecurity may be judged in that I pitched camp well apart from the village of Tasessat and surrounded it with a strong thorn zereba, through which no one could enter without disturbance, and never lay down at night without my loaded rifle by my side.

I consider I had only one friend in Baguezan: a native who might be called the local smith, for he handled a bellows that nourished a coke fire and welded primitive tools and weapons and trinkets for the people. He often came to my camp uncalled, and gladly did me any service that I wished that was within his power. Next to him I trusted most the chief, Minerou; principally because I knew him well—his good points and his faults. With him I was friends, at least outwardly—as friendly as one can be with a person shrewdly suspected of being an unscrupulous rascal. The commandant at Agades, replying to a letter of mine from Baguezan, wrote with regard to Minerou: “Yes! the Chief of Baguezan is underneath full of slyness: and so they all are. But you know the bush law better than myself, and I rely upon your carefully watching. Don’t trust any of them.”

I find in my diary the following notes of the Chief of Baguezan: “Among his people he is a king, and all appear to obey his command. How he obtains authority over his wild-natured flock is, to me, mysterious, yet the power of king is his. He is wise in a cunning way, and appears to have greater capacity for enterprise and work than any of his people. Like all Tuaregs, he has no subterfuge in his greed for food or clothing or money. He professes to be my friend, yet at heart I know he is full of suspicion of the stranger, and is friends, in reality, only with my purse, and, also, because he fears the military authorities at Agades. In his religion, Mohammedan, or sect of Mohammedan, he is very devout, and at sunrise or sunset, no matter what occupation he may interrupt, he never fails to address his incantations and salaams to the east; and I would not be surprised if the excessive zeal of his devotion induces the belief that his faith is supreme, and shuts out the white man as a fanatic or an enemy to his God.”

In time the period of hunting among the Baguezan mountains came to an end, and I turned my thoughts to travelling northward, an undertaking not altogether looked on with favour by the authorities at Agades, who, though desirous of helping me, declared, like the natives, that the journey entailed, perhaps, foolish risk. My own view of the matter is partly contained in the following letter to the commandant at Agades: “. . . with regard to going further north, I place myself entirely in your hands, knowing you will advise me for the best and assist me where you can. I realise even here that there is risk and that one must ever be careful and on the alert, but nothing worth while was ever accomplished without overcoming difficulties, and I would much like, since I have come so far with that purpose, to complete my journey fully in Aïr. From my map I estimate that Aguellal is 4 to 5 days further north and Iferouan 1 to 2 days more (Iferouan would be the end of my northward journey), while outward or homeward I would like to visit Assodé. I purpose travelling very light, and estimate that 3 or 4 camels would suffice for the journey. Regarding escort, I leave the matter entirely with you, who know conditions much better than I do. For my own part, I am ready to undertake any risk, but any natives who may accompany me might feel reassured with a small show of rifles. This is a type of mountain country where but a few armed men could put up a great fight—if not taken by surprise in the dark. But now there is the chief point: to obtain one native who knows where there is water to be found on the journey. The Chief of Baguezan declares none of his people know the north territory, though I doubt his statement, and strongly suspect it is prompted by the universal fear of entering an ill-reputed neighbourhood. Possibly a guide can be secured in Agades? Where men from the north are to be found, you, of course, know, and in this, as in everything, I will await your consideration of the matter and your advice.”

Which letter brought satisfactory results; so that on the afternoon of 7th June I was able to commence the journey to Iferouan, situated in the extreme north of Aïr.