Chapter IV: From Tosaye to Fafa (2)

Before the evening mists arose we set sail to go through the pass, which we managed to do without accident, and anchored opposite the village to await the morning.

On the 9th we crossed over very early, but, alas! the day began badly. El Mekki did not come, but sent instead two messengers, who—I really don’t know on what stupid pretext—told us it was impossible to supply us with guides. I protested in vain, invoking the name of Madidu.

Political reasons imperatively demanded that we should make a friend of El Mekki, but there was yet another more immediate motive for our desire, and that was, we were close to the rapids.

As I have already said, they begin at Ansongo. We did not yet know all the difficulties they would cause us; all we had to help us was what Barth had said about them, and we had never known him wrong, which was quite enough to prove how absolutely indispensable pilots would be, for at every turn we should have to choose the most practicable of the many arms of the river.

I called up all my powers of patience, and tried to discuss the matter quietly, but it was only labour lost. Indeed some negroes who had come down to the bank to speak to us were ordered back to the village by the Kel es Suk.

Now came a second deputation, this time an openly hostile one, of men with determined faces.

“What,” they demanded, “were our intentions?”

“Peaceful and good,” was our reply.

“What is your religion?” they went on.

“That of Issa,” we answered; “whom your own prophet names as his forerunner. We are Kitabi, or people of the book. Your own religion enjoins you to treat us as friends, seeing that we entertain amicable feelings for you.”

Tierno chimed in, arguing with his fellow marabouts to make them listen to reason, but with very little success.

“Anyhow,” I said at last, “your fathers let a Christian pass through their country in peace, and indeed they even helped him. That Christian, my uncle, Abdul Kerim, was the friend and _protégé_ of Sidi Hamet Beckay; do you think you can do better than your fathers, and the chief who was venerated throughout the whole of the Sudan?”

Surprise and hurried interrogations now ensued.

“What! are you the nephew of Abdul Kerim?”

I read Barth’s book every day, so that it is rather difficult to put me out when his adventures are discussed.

Now it so happened that just before he reached Ansongo a little episode occurred to him which is well worth relating.

Without any disrespect to the memory of my “uncle”—my very worthy and excellent “uncle”—I suspect him of having been the hero of at least one idyl on the banks of the Niger, in which a young beauty of the Kel es Suk tribe also played her part.

Her name was Neschrun, and Barth, who generally dismisses the charms of the black or brown beauties he came across in his travels curtly enough, dwells on her graceful figure, her pleasing manners, her beautiful black eyes, and her hair parted on her brows, _à la Vierge_. He does not even neglect to tell us that she wore a garment alternately striped with black and red, which was most becoming.

The attraction was evidently mutual, for he adds that she one day said to him, half in fun—

“Will you marry me?”

What prevented the course of true love running smoothly was some question about camels.

“I expressed to her,” says Barth, “all the regret I felt at being obliged to refuse, and whilst explaining how sensible I was of the honour she did me I told her my camels were too tired to carry her.”

I have already referred to the standard of beauty amongst these people, and how they admire _embonpoint_; and I may here add that, when a woman has achieved the weight desired, she might very well claim to be admitted into the so-called “_Société des Cent Kilos_.” The name given to this special charm by the Tuaregs is _tebulloden_, and those who know anything of the onomatopœia theory will see in a minute how appropriate it is to a Tuareg Venus who is not content with being merely a Venus Callipyge.

Neschrun, no doubt, was rather of the _tebulloden_ style of beauty, so that it is quite possible that the camels of the German traveller were really not equal to carrying her weight.

Now was not this a good story to prove my identity in my parley with the messengers from El Mekki?

It actually turned out that Neschrun was the sister of El Mekki, and was still alive, so of course I made a great fuss about seeing her at once. Alas! she was far away in the interior, and it was no use hoping that she could come to me or that I could go to her, so I had to be content with sending her a present of a folding mirror with three glasses, trimmed with plush, which had cost about three shillings. See how generous I was!

The messengers went back to tell El Mekki all about it, and we at once became capital friends. Two slaves belonging to the chief of the Kel es Suk were given to us as guides, and we started again, but not before I had sent my affectionate greetings to the lady who might have been my aunt if she had not been so fat, or if Barth’s camels had been better able to carry heavy loads.

My dear “uncle”! my brave “uncle”! my providential “uncle”! yet once again had you drawn a sharp thorn from the foot of your nephew when the happy thought occurred to you of relating your love affair with a daughter of the Kel es Suk.

The current was now very strong, running at the rate of 4½ miles an hour. We could not fail to see that we had drunk our best wine at the beginning of the feast, and that we must now husband our resources most carefully. In other words, we must steer with the greatest caution.

The fresh breeze from the south drove the _Aube_ a little out of her course, and she struck on a bed of coarse gravel. She was, however, in very little danger, and we soon got her off again. But when out of the narrow channel she was flung violently on to a sharp rock, and there remained stationary. The water was so deep just there that the coolies could not stand in it, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that we rescued our consort this time. However, after swimming about her for an hour our efforts were at last rewarded by seeing her afloat again.

About 109 yards further down stream we doubled the point of the island of Ansongo.

The right arm of the river, which we could now see distinctly, was completely encumbered by rocks and rapids. Our barges could certainly not have got past them.

In front of us eddies and ripples showed that there were also rocks ahead of us. Our guides were brave fellows enough, but I did not believe they were much accustomed to the river, so I decided to make the two big boats anchor here. Baudry and I having removed the canvas sail which would have given purchase to the wind, and having pressed into the service every available oar, started to examine the channel, which, though very tortuous, turned out to be both wide and deep. We then returned on board, and without further incident we went on undaunted amongst the grass close to the left bank.

The _Aube_ had leaked dreadfully since she struck, and four men with buckets could scarcely bale her out. Our carpenter, Abdulaye, dived beneath her, and discovered that one of the planks of her bottom had got loose, but we managed to patch it up somehow.

To wind up this day, which had been so full of unpleasant excitement, a storm presently overtook us, during which we were soaked to the skin, whilst from the banks rose an odour of musk so strong as to be positively sickening.

Every now and then there were ripples close to the boat, caused by an alligator plunging into the water. It would not do to fall overboard just there.

A comparatively quiet reach brought us the next day to the northern point of the island of Buré, probably the Tiburanen of Barth, on the rugged rocks of which a village was picturesquely perched. Opposite to us on the left was a mound with slopes covered with tents, whilst on the summit was drawn up a squadron of Tuaregs ready to defend it, with foot soldiers in the front of the square and the cavalry in the centre. All remained motionless, watching the approach of our boats. We landed on the island, and the negroes, who at first seemed timid, came slowly towards us. Then a canoe, in which were several Tuaregs, crossed the stream, whilst our guides with vehement gestures explained who we were, and what we wanted.

As soon as this was understood the battalion posted on the mound broke up in the twinkling of an eye, and canoes began to ply rapidly to and fro between the left bank of the river and the island, bringing over the Tuaregs, so that we were soon surrounded by a crowd of some three or four hundred men, some Ifoghas, others sheriffs. They had at first been afraid, they said, when they saw our boats, but now they were our best friends. We brought out our little presents, such as rings, bracelets, pipes, and knives, which evoked a perfect delirium of joy. In exchange we received eggs, butter, poultry, and some pretty little leather bags our visitors called _abelbodh_. We resumed our voyage by the left arm of the stream, which was narrow, and much encumbered with rocks. On the banks were numerous flocks of sheep grazing on the grass and the succulent weeds.

The whole population followed us as before at Gao, shouting, but now the cries were friendly and pacific. Every time we halted to distribute presents the enthusiasm increased, men, women, and children—the last-named merry little creatures, with wide-awake expressions—flung themselves into the water to fight for a ring or a bit of glass.

Every now and then an important chief would receive what we called a _complet_, the object of desire of every Tuareg—that is to say, a piece of Guinea or blue cotton cloth nine yards long—five to make the _bubu_ or mantle, and four for the breeches. There is no doubt that our visit will long be remembered, and I hope that the first traveller to succeed us may have as much cause to thank Abd El Kader, as I called myself, as I had to bless the name of Abdul Kerim.

The island of Buré does not belong to the Tuaregs. Strange to say—for the fact is really unique on the Niger between Timbuktu and Sansan Hussa—a Songhay chief, Idris by name, is the real owner. He pays no tribute to Madidu, and though the flocks and herds of the sheriffs and Ifoghas are now grazing on his land, it is only by his permission, and because their owners are in dread of a raid of Kel Avis.

We halted at the village of Idris, and he came to see us. We made a league of friendship with him, leaving in his hands a document which was a kind of protectorate treaty, and a flag. He on his side lent us three of his subjects, one of them his own brother, to replace our Ansongo guides, who now returned to their village, having been well paid for their services.

These Songhay of Idris were splendid fellows, wearing veils, and carrying weapons similar to those of the Tuaregs; but their complexions were perfectly black, so that no one could mistake them for Arabs. They are, as a rule, very tall and of herculean strength.

It really was a pleasure to have to do once more with men of such a noble type as this, after being thrown for so long amongst the degraded negroes of the Niger districts; and it is easy to understand what this Songhay race must have been in the old days, when it dominated the Western Sudan under the Askia chiefs, and Gao was their capital.

In spite of all our efforts and all the skill of our guides we were not able to avoid running aground several times on the 11th, and our crafts again sustained a good deal of damage. We had hardly started before the _Aube_ struck on a large flint shaped like the head of a man. There she stuck for three hours, with a current rushing by like that of the river of hell, and a reef on either side, on one of which it seemed as if she must be wrecked if we succeeded in getting her off.

Everybody rushed to the rescue. Our own men and our guides alike all flung themselves into the water, showing equal energy and devotion.

Every moment we expected to see the unlucky vessel part in two, the bow going one way and the stern another. At last, however, we did manage to fling a grappling-hook on to the left bank, and after many fruitless efforts, some of the men tugging at the part of the boat which had struck, whilst others hauled away from the stern at the grappling-hook, we succeeded in moving the vessel, which, taken in the rear by the current, was floated off. She joined the _Davoust_ soon afterwards, but not without touching bottom again by the way.

We started once more about two o’clock, great blocks of flint everywhere impeding progress. But our guides assured us that this was nothing. “Wait,” they said, “till you get to Labezenga, then you will see!” A charming prospect truly!

In the evening we reached Bentia, the Biting of Barth, where we halted for the night.

We pushed on early the next day to Fafa, arriving there about seven o’clock in the morning. Here the stream is divided into two arms by an island on which a village is hidden, with an approach presenting anything but a reassuring appearance. But we had other things to see to before exploring it.

Directly we anchored a Tuareg came to accost us. He turned out to be an envoy from Djamarata, the nephew of Madidu, who he said was at the village, specially accredited by that chief to complete the negotiations begun with us at Gao, and to give me the letter I had asked for.

The village of Fafa is occupied by Peuls or Fulahs, who, like all the rest of the sedentary races whom we met with who are face to face with the Tuaregs, were in a state of abject fear, wondering what would happen between the white visitors and the dreaded Arabs, both of superior race in the eyes of the negroes. Would they quarrel with each other? Would they come to blows? Not wishing to play the part of the iron between hammer and anvil, they were full of anxiety and trouble.

The old fellow who had come out as envoy climbed on to the _Davoust_. He did not wish me to land, Djamarata must come on board. As for him, he meant to stop where he was. Fortunately my Songhay from Idris were not quite such cowards, and they tried to reassure the poor old man, but when he still seemed terrified they gave him a good scolding. Djamarata was seated, meanwhile, some hundred yards from the river bank, surrounded by about a dozen Tuaregs. The brother of Idris finally took me by the arm, and we went together towards him. We saluted each other, we shook hands, neither of us looking in the least inclined to eat the other. But this peaceable greeting did not reassure the silly old messenger, who, with a feeling which really did him honour, came and crouched almost between my legs to protect me.

Djamarata was a young man of about thirty years old, at least that was what I supposed from all I could see of his face, which was almost hidden by the _tagelmust_ wrapped about the lower part. He was tall and of a commanding presence, whilst his great black eyes were lit up with intelligence. All Madidu’s boys being still under age, he was his uncle’s right hand, alike the confidant and the commander-in-chief of the Amenokal’s army.

Our interview was very brief. I simply repeated what I had said at Gao, and Djamarata informed me that my statement tallied with what he had heard from the chief of the Awellimiden.

Now about the letter I had asked for. As he had not a marabout in his suite who knew how to write Arabic, he proved his confidence in Tierno by letting him indite it without hesitation, and the latter set about it at once. Here is a literal translation of his production:

_Letter from Madidu and his nephew Djamarata to the Sultan of the
French._

“The object of this letter is to inform you that we have come to an understanding with Commandant Hourst, known under the name of Abd el Kader, on the following points:—between us and him there shall be only good and peace; your traders shall come to us by land and by water, assured that no one in our country will molest them in any way. You will bring no trouble into our possessions, nor interfere with our civil and religious traditions. Be it also known unto you, that so soon as your envoys are returned, and you will have proved our truth, you will see us come and go alone and in parties by land and by water. This is the exact truth without reserve and without exaggeration. After you have given us the promises mentioned we shall be brothers; greeting!”

Djamarata asked me in my turn to leave behind me a written statement of the verbal arrangement we had made. This seemed only fair, and here is my reply:

_Letter from Commandant Hourst, surnamed Abd el Kader, to Madidu,
Amenokal of the Awellimiden, and to Djamarata his nephew._

“This is to certify, that having been sent by the Sultan of the French to you to establish eternal peace between us, and to inaugurate commercial and friendly relations, and having received from him full powers to speak in his name, I can assure you that our only desire is to act in the manner explained in your letter. We will not establish posts in your country, nor touch that which belongs to you, nor change your civil and religious traditions in any way.

“You can come to us in peace in numbers or alone, to trade or merely to visit us. Once in our territories, which are on the west of the dune of Ernessé, you will find nothing but good and peace.

“As for what you say on the subject of our religion, we are governed by the law of Sidna Issa (Jesus Christ); we know that there is but one God; we pray, we fast, we give alms. As a result we could not prevent these things amongst others without becoming unworthy of the protection of God.

“Know therefore that all this is the absolute and exact truth, that we are of noble race, that a lie is as much unknown amongst us as it is with you, who too are of noble race.

“Come to us, then, without fear either at Timbuktu or wherever we may be. The truth will then be proved.”

We spent the rest of the day chatting with the Tuaregs and distributing presents. Meanwhile Baudry went with Digui to reconnoitre the river below Fafa.

For the second time a treaty, or rather a written agreement, had been made between a Tuareg confederation and the French. The first was that which followed or resulted from the grand journey of Duveyrier in Southern Algeria and amongst the Azgueur Tuaregs, after which a mission, including the Prince de Polignac, made a convention with them at Rhâdames.

For the second time those who made these arrangements, and who dealt directly face to face and voice to voice with the Tuareg chiefs, assert that they found them loyal and to some extent even conciliatory.

In speaking of the Tuaregs in general, I shall express myself very plainly on the subject of these treaties. I now beg leave to break off the narrative of our voyage for a moment to try and make better known this interesting race, which has perhaps been unjustly calumniated.