Chapter I (2)

All water-courses, with a supply of moist soil upon the ground just sufficient for a few months, although they are not enclosed by heights like valleys, are comprehended within the Arab designation “el wady.” Cheerless through the dry season, after the first rain their level sand flats are clothed with the most luxuriant flora; fresh springing grasses put forth their little cushion points, and give the sward the appearance of being dotted with a myriad spikes; then quickly come the sprouting blades, and all is like a waving field of corn. Halfway between Singat and Erkoweet we halted in a wady of this character, which bore the name of Sarroweet. What a prospect! how gay with its variety of hue, green and red and yellow! Nothing could be more pleasant than the shade of the acacia, nothing more striking than the abundance of bloom of the Abyssinian aloe, transforming the dreary sand-beds into smiling gardens. Green were the tabbes-grass and the acacias, yellow and red were the aloes, and in such crowded masses, that I was involuntarily reminded of the splendour of the tulip beds of the Netherlands; but here gardens lay in the midst of a waste of gloomy black stone. One special charm of a desert journey is that it is full of contrasts, that it brings close together dearth and plenty, death and life; it opens the eyes of the traveller to the minutest benefits of nature, and demonstrates how every enjoyment is allied to a corresponding deprivation. Richly laden with treasures I returned to Singat, where I remained until the 21st of September, and during my stay I had once again repeated opportunities of studying my old friends the people of Suakin in their domestic relations.

The coast lands on both sides of the Red Sea offer a striking likeness to each other, which does not consist in physical resemblances alone. The people are the same in feeling and in manners, however much the true Ethiopians, such as the Bishareen, Hadendoa, and Beni-Ammer, may differ in language and descent from the true Arabs; I say from the _true_ Arabs, because the term Arab has been at times too indiscriminately applied, and ought to be limited to the nomads in Arabia, as distinguished from the settlers. On both coasts the inhabitants follow the same character of life. They are people of the deserts, wandering shepherds, and procure whatever corn they may require from external sources. Even the town life of the Arabs is essentially half a camp life. As a collateral illustration of this I may remark that to this day in Malta, where an Arab colony has reached as high a degree of civilisation as ever yet it has attained, the small towns, which are inhabited by this active little community, are called by the very same designations as elsewhere belong to the nomad encampments in the desert. Half Suakin is like a desert camp, and for this reason I have called its inhabitants town Bedouins.

[Sidenote: TOWN BEDOUINS.]

These town Bedouins are people whose only distinction from the Bedouins of the mountains is that their dress almost always is of a spotless white; the true sons of the desert, in consequence of their continual camp life, have long toned down the colour of their single garment, never washed, to a brownish-grey, quite in harmony with the general hue of the surrounding country. Many very beautiful faces, perfectly regular in feature, are to be found amongst these swarthy Bedouins, whilst a wonderful dignity and elegance mark their movements. Like the inhabitants of Hedjas and Yemen they chew tobacco, and find recreation in various amusements which are unknown to the mountain Bedouins. All alike, however, have in common the same single aim of existence: to do as little as possible, to sleep much, to drink goats’ milk, to eat sheep’s flesh, and finally to scrape together all the Maria Theresa dollars that they can; the latter is a matter of some difficulty, on account of their natural idleness. Black female slaves instead of asses, which in Suakin would cost too much to feed, are indispensable to them for carrying water from the well to the town. Whoever possesses fifty dollars in his bag and has one slave besides his water-bearer, is quite a magnate, and spends much labour in the profuse adornment of his hair. When he is not sleeping, that is to say, in the cool hours of the morning and evening, he takes his walk, always bareheaded and with high-towering locks, here and there on the road joining in a conversation or conferring the favours of his weighty counsel. When it becomes too hot in Suakin, and the goats give no more milk, after the last weed has been devoured, and the last tundup (sodada) eaten to the roots by the camels, they leave the cob-webbed thorn hedges of their farms, pack together the acacia-rods and date-mats, the materials of the tent, and withdraw to the mountain pastures, which they retain by ancestral right. After them follow the Turkish soldiers, who roam through the valleys, switching their kurbatch, and proceed to collect the taxes levied in proportion to the number of cattle. The services of these officials in return are enlisted to re-capture any camel stealers who may be seeking to escape to the remote solitudes of the mountains.

On the 21st of September I resumed my journey towards the Nile, a further distance of 175 miles. On the way my little party, which, besides the camel drivers, consisted of only a native of Berber and a dog which I had brought from Europe, was increased by falling in with two young pilgrims on their way from Mecca. I was unable to complete my proper retinue until I should reach Khartoom, since the men who had offered me their services in Egypt appeared so weakly that I considered them unfit for undertaking any journey into Central Africa. The addition therefore of these two blacks for the approaching march of sixteen days through mountain solitudes was very welcome. Their armour consisted of a Turkish sabre, and this, together with my gun, seemed completely sufficient protection against the natives, whom Sir Samuel Baker a few years before had so successfully mastered with the help of an umbrella, that a considerable number of them voluntarily laid down their arms. The vigilance of the dog was a security against any nocturnal attack, and indeed, at two different times he had given warning to my little caravan just at the right time.

[Sidenote: RIVAL WIVES.]

Less welcome to me was the company of a disagreeable old fanatic, who, followed by two wives, was on his return journey from the Holy City of the East to his home in the far west. He was a priest from Kano in Haussa, and when he told of the wonders of the world which he had seen on his long journeys, I could always set him right, having really seen infinitely more than he had. I completely non-plussed him by my geographical knowledge of the Western Soudan, and after the details which I gave of that country, he was, however reluctantly, at last obliged to believe that I had actually been there. But any friendship between us was rendered impossible by the constant noise and contention caused by his wives. All amicable relations came utterly to an end when I found myself driven as I did to come forward as the champion of the oppressed. Of the priest’s two wives, one had faithfully followed her husband from his home, and now saw herself supplanted by the other, whom the priest had married at the tomb of the Prophet. The fellow had begun to impose on his first wife in the most shameful manner by the withdrawal of every choice morsel and of every harmless indulgence; consequently the two women were continually quarrelling, and literally laid on to each other by the hair. The man himself always took the part of the new wife, and cruelly maltreated the old. At last it became too much for me to be the daily witness of such revolting scenes, and I took the old sinner to task, and tried to inculcate in him due ideas of woman’s rights and dignity, so that he could tell his countrymen in Haussa what we thought on such matters. The indifferent camel drivers and the still more indifferent camels, both alike as unmoved as the black rocks in their solemn stateliness, alone surveyed this little tragedy. Whoever has to travel through deserts should endeavour to be free from such rabble and useless retinue. A large company is troublesome on account of the scarcity of shade, since there is not always time at the halting-places to pitch a tent, and one must avail himself of the few larger trees which exist in the valleys.

A stiff ascent of the road at a short distance from Singat led westwards to the water-shed between the Nile and the Red Sea. The elevated pass is rather to the rear of the defiles on the Suakin side. We then descended to a very broad wady full of pasture, called O-Mareg, which was a third summer retreat for the natives of Suakin. In the middle of a green valley; two miles broad, some fifty tents were erected, all under the surveillance of a Turkish captain with some soldiers to look after the interests of the Government. Great herds of camels, cows, sheep, and goats, and amongst them several hundreds of asses, were grazing in every direction. The Wady O-Mareg does not form, as might be expected, a tributary of the great mountain-river Langeb, which at its recurring period joins the Barka, but takes its course direct to the Atbara, as do all the larger water-courses of the ensuing road.

In consequence of the repeated storms of rain, at the time of my journey there was water in nearly all the valleys, and everywhere there was abundance of pasture for the camels. The drivers accordingly chose a more direct road running to the south of the ordinary route of the caravans. This enabled me to fill up my map with many new details. As a general rule the drivers followed the rule of never, if possible, encountering the native shepherds on the road. Although they were of the same race, they feared the conflicts which were frequently unavoidable in the neighbourhood of any wells. I was not surprised at their timidity, as I had myself experienced some difficulty in my former tour.

Having crossed the third chain, we reached the great wady Amet, which is bounded on the north by Mount O-Kurr, a colossal mass visible as a landmark in the west for a whole day’s journey. The predominating rocks are greenstone in several varieties, although beautiful serpentine is far from infrequent. In one part of the valley rises a homogeneous mass of splendid porphyry nearly 1000 feet in height, brilliantly marked on its surface with veins of Indian red. From the prevaence in these mountains of greenstone, which no doubt often contains a grass-green stratum, the conclusion must not be drawn that green is at all a prevailing colour of the walls of rock. This is by no means the case; indeed, nearly all kinds of rock, however diverse they may appear when broken, are covered externally with an uniform dark brown, which obliterates all distinctive shades. In its interior the greenstone is unpolished and of bright colour. A superficial accretion, the cause of which remains hitherto unexplained, forms itself on every fragment and gives a coating about a millimeter thick, in colour not unlike a bright brown cake of chocolate.

[Sidenote: BISHAREEN GOATS AND SHEEP.]

In Wady Amet we lighted upon some sorghum-fields, which seem to have been planted out, like those at O-Mareg and Erkoweet, by way of experiment; but in reality they here represented the whole exertions of the idle inhabitants of the desert. Some primitive huts, heaped up in Cyclopean rudeness, bore witness to the stability of this rendezvous of native shepherds. We were here amply provided with milk and meat, goats and sheep being alike abundant in the neighbouring valleys. Camel-breeding is not carried on here so much as in the northern parts of Etbai, as the whole district of the Bishareen between the Nile and the sea is called; the breeders avoiding the proximity of the great roads through fear of the foraging and reprisals of the military.

The goats of the country form a small race of their own and belong to the comprehensive variety which is called the Ethiopian. Differing from those of the Nile valley, they are again found among all the nomad people in the interior; the goats of the Dinka being a larger kind of the same character. The Ethiopian goat may be reckoned among the most agile and elegant of the race, and it might be called the climbing goat, since it prefers to feed on the young shoots of the acacia, and for that purpose often climbs up the slanting stems or low-growing branches. A large flock occasionally groups itself round a tree with pendant branches: in that case, the animals are rarely seen in any other position than standing upright on their hind legs, and give at a distance an impression that they must be a crowd of men. Others may be observed in grotesque attitudes, with legs straddling, hanging in mid-air, and weighing down the boughs of an acacia.

The Bishareen keep larger flocks of sheep than of goats; the breed is very peculiar, marked by distinctions which might almost constitute a nationality. The Etbai race is closely allied to the thick-tailed species in all general characteristics, but distinguished by the lissome condition of its long and bushy tail. The fleece is hardly worthy of being called wool at all, for it simply consists of rather long straight hair. Almost all are perfectly white, except (and this is the chief mark of distinction in the species) on the ancles and mouth, which are covered with black hair. The usual price in the country for such sheep never exceeds a Maria Theresa dollar (four shillings), whilst young lambs cost but half this sum. Cattle are found only in the environs of Suakin and on the road to Taka, lying further south than the one on which we travelled. On the route which we took, in consequence of the smaller rainfall, the pasture necessary for their maintenance is not permanent throughout the year, like it is in the lands adjacent to the Barka basin. In the next district we crossed a high level, intersected by numerous water-courses deeply worn amidst the stones and rubble. The most considerable of all these water-courses periodically flowing to the south-west, was the Wady Arab. The dry bed of this was bounded by shelving banks from 40 to 50 feet in height, and the ascent was steep enough to demand no small exertion from our laden camels.

[Sidenote: SCHWEINFURTHIA.]

Here grew in great abundance the plant, a species of Scrophulariaceæ, to which my own name had been assigned (_Schweinfurthia pterosperma_). It met me as a greeting from my distant home. In itself it is but an insignificant little weed, but upon its discovery, Alexander Braun, the celebrated professor of the University of Berlin, had named it in my honour—a little token of remembrance, which, according to the tribute of Linnæus, may be more lasting than any memorial in brass or marble.

A hollow, as of a saddle-seat, between the mountains led us over the chain, unbroken by a pass, of the fourth of the parallel mountain ridges which, with many branches, traverse this part of Africa. To the right on the north we left Mount Wowinte and the peak of Badab in which it culminates at an altitude of 5000 feet. The road then descended into the wide plain spreading to the west of this height, where a magnificent panorama opened to the view. Next we reached the Wady Habohb, a watercourse of which the breadth was about 400 feet. Proceeding across Wady Kokreb, two miles wide, we arrived at length at the equally wide Wady Yumga. By this time we were on the next line of the mountain range, in which is situated the much frequented well of Koway, a rendezvous for all the nomads who wander in the neighbouring localities. Here, by order of the great Sheikh of the Hadendoa, a tribute, sanctioned by the Egyptian Government, is levied on every caravan that passes.

My lazy camel drivers used every available opportunity to prolong the duration of the journey. For my part I was indifferent to this, as I had time at my disposal, and my enjoyment of the flora fully occupied me; my companions, however, were not so patient. They longed for their cherished Nile to put an end to this camp-life in dreary deserts. At length even my own forbearance was exhausted; the excuses became intolerable: at one time the camels had run away, at another they wanted food, so that it grew up to a regular fight between us four and the dozen Bedouins who were conducting us. Some sticks, the single Turkish sabre, and an indestructible pipe tube, which I swung in my hand, were our only weapons, but they sufficed to turn the victory to our side. My tube smashed a number of patriarchal shepherd staves, and thus an end was put to the eternal halts and feeds, and we went on towards the west at a better pace. I thought of the proverb that the European in India either learns patience or loses it.

As we followed the Wady Laemeb with the water of its channel now replaced by verdure, we come to O-Fik, the last mountain on the route, beyond which a desert, unrefreshed by a single spring, extends as far as the Nile valley. The last well was that of O-Baek. We lighted here upon some Bishareen families, who were staying temporarily with their flocks in the neighbourhood of the well, and were accustomed after the first rain to sow a considerable piece of ground with sorghum. Amongst the men may be observed expressive features, well developed, unlike ours, yet less unlike them than the other inhabitants of the Nile valley. But more frightful creatures than the women of these nomads there surely cannot be on earth. Of course I speak only of those who have passed the spring-time of their life. They are lean beyond all conception, and as haggard as their goats would be if shorn of their hair, which alone gives any roundness to their gaunt frames. There is nothing about them even of that natural delicacy of many savages which makes the children of the desert appear like the gazelle, which is clean, though it never bathes. Physically and morally they are loathsome; toothless, mangy, inquisitive, and chattering; in a word, they are the very incorporation of the infirmities of senility.

From this place it required an energetic march of twenty leagues to reach the first well on the confines of the Nile-valley. The road, now formed by numerous pathways running closely side by side like cattle-ruts, crossed a great boulder flat in a W.S.W. direction. The pack-camels proceeded side by side in phalanx, as upon the open lands they rarely march in single file. There were sandy water-courses ever and again intersecting our way, and groups of hills meeting the eye in the horizon.

[Sidenote: MONUMENT OF NATURE.]

On leaving O-Baek we had next to traverse the plains extending to the west of the wells; formed of the finest quicksand, blown up into hills often as high as a house, these sands were a considerable impediment to the camels. From the dreary waste of the plain with its loose black rocks, jutted up a solitary block of granite, to which the Bedouins give the suggestive name of “Eremit.” An hour’s journey further on there appeared, above the plain by the right of the road, another isolated mass of granite, one of those landmarks visible from afar, which, after the weariness of the desert journey, is ever greeted gratefully by the eye of the long-tried traveller. It is a natural stone obelisk, 35 feet high, in its singular shape resembling an inverted pear or fig. The block is narrow at the base, and evidently in the course of time has been worn away by the action of the sand as it has been driven by the wind.[5] This monument, the unhewn production of nature itself, is called by the natives Aboo-Odfa, Odfa being the name of a saddle covered with a canopy which is used for women on the camel. Smaller blocks of similar conformation are not unfrequently met with at other parts of the road.

On the grassy bottom of Aboo-Kolod, where, in consequence of the late rain, great pools had formed themselves, we made our last night camp but one. The slopes had all the characteristics of being on the level of the Nile at Berber, whilst the remainder of the road again ascends. The last wady is Aboo-Selem; it was at that time one unbroken sorghum-field, its fruitful soil was already cultivated by the industrious inhabitants of the Nile valley, although the recurrence of the rain would permit the culture only at intervals. At length on the 7th of October we entered the town of Berber. Without loss of time I found a boat on which to continue my journey to Khartoom.

Whilst I encamped at Berber, pending my embarkation on the Nile, I had been unconsciously put into a position of some jeopardy. The native of Dongola who accompanied me as my servant, in order to find the safest place he could to secure the prohibited wares of a Greek merchant from the eyes of the police, had, without my knowledge, concealed under my tent a considerable quantity of gunpowder and other explosive materials. Whilst the fellow was away on a visit to town, I had unsuspiciously kindled a fire on the loose sandy soil, in order to perform my cooking operations, little dreaming of the peril which happily I escaped.

[Sidenote: HOSPITALITY.]

My old acquaintance, M. Lafargue, who was settled in Berber as a merchant and presided over the French Vice-consulate, himself an experienced traveller on the Upper Nile, received me with that hearty hospitality which many other desert wanderers have proved besides myself. Sir Samuel Baker aptly compares such receptions to the oasis in the desert. No necessity of letters of introduction here as with us in Europe; no hollow forms of speech, exchanging courtesies which perchance mean the very reverse; no empty compliment of at best a tedious dinner; but here in Egypt the people receive us with free and genial amiability, all Europeans are fellow citizens and everything is true and hearty. “What pleases me the most is the ease with which you travel in this country; you come, you go, you return again, as though it were a walk.” Such were M. Lafargue’s cordial words to me. We parted well pleased with one another: I shall not see him again.

About the last part of the journey to Khartoom, which embraces the passage up the Nile, and which is sufficiently well known by the descriptions of other travellers, I have nothing new to relate. By the complete failure of wind, much of this portion of my journey was so exceptionally prolonged, that it took sixteen days to accomplish the whole. For the first part of the voyage, as far as Shendy and Matamma, the only considerable towns in this district, the shore offered nothing attractive. It reminded me of the Egyptian valley of the Nile only in two places; the mouth of the Atbara, and one spot where the renowned pyramids of Meroe formed a noble background.

Matamma is a populous town, but extremely slow and dull. The buildings, constructed of Nile earth, are insignificant in themselves, and irregularly crowded together in a mass like huge ant-hills; not a single tree affords its shade to the dreary streets, which are filthy with dirt.

The _ennui_ and the calm which obliged us to lay to here, suggested all sorts of unprofitable vagaries to my servant Arbab. He received from me part of his wages, and took a wife on the spot from amongst the circle of his kinsfolk. The bride, two days afterwards, was given back to herself and her relations, to await indefinitely, for a year and a day, the expected return of her husband. Arbab had already been several times married in Khartoom; and at every return he repeated the same usual, one may almost say, the becoming custom.

The second half of the Nile voyage was, however, rich in the charms of scenery. This is especially applicable to the views afforded by the river islands. These islands are so many throughout the whole extent of the sixth cataract, between the island of Marnad and the lofty mountain-island of Rowyan, that no one pretends to know their precise number, and the sailors call them, in consequence, the ninety-nine islands. This excursion offers to the traveller a most attractive prospect, and the landscapes on shore afford a treat which no other river voyage could surpass. Splendid groups of acacias, in three varieties, with groves of the holy-thorn, overgrown by the hanging foliage of graceful climbers, made the profusion of islands set in the surface of the water appear like bright-green luxuriant and gay tangles. Wildly romantic, on the contrary, reminding one of the Binger-loch, are the valley-straits of Sablook, where the Nile, narrowed to a small mountain stream, flows between high bare granite walls which rise some hundred feet.

So much the more surprising appeared the breadth which the Nile exhibits above this cataract, where it displays itself in a majesty which it has long lost in Egypt. Below their confluence, the waters of the Blue and the White Nile are distinctly visible many miles apart. It is highly probable that at certain times the level of the streams might show a difference of several feet; the proposed establishment of a Nilometer should therefore take place below the confluence, in order that with the help of the telegraph accurate intelligence of its condition might be remitted to Cairo.

[Sidenote: PITIABLE CONDITION OF NUBIANS.]

In the Nubian Nile-valley all charm is gone. Extremely wretched is the aspect of the country, and equally pitiable are its present social conditions. In the course of the last ten years, as a consequence, first, of the increased taxation, and secondly, of the diminished production, matters have continually become worse and worse. To the cursory glance of a traveller only a small proportion of this deep-rooted misery may be disclosed; he may perceive the consequences, without being able to assign the reasons; and from the contradictory statements of the inhabitants, he can hardly form a clear idea of the real condition of the country. On the other hand, the complaints of the people give him an incomplete representation of the circumstances, unless he at the same time takes notice of the objections which the Government appears justified in raising against them. Only a thorough knowledge of the country combined with local study would put him in a position to form an opinion. In spite of everything, the fact remains that the culture of the soil is declining, that scarcity is everywhere on the increase, and that distress is consequently more frequent. In the last two months of this year’s harvest, the market price of a rup[6] of sorghum-corn had risen to a Maria Theresa dollar. Three years before, large villages had been pointed out to me, lying completely deserted on account of the emigration of the inhabitants, and now again similar evidence of distress was forced upon my notice. In the district between Damer and Shendy, the population seemed utterly scared at the increasing emigrations. The unmarried men go to Khartoom in order to be enlisted as so-called soldiers by the merchants on the Upper Nile. The elder people, on the other hand, leave their culture, and with a few sheep or goats endeavour to lead a meagre nomad life as shepherds in the steppes and deserts.

On the 1st of November, at midday, we at last reached Khartoom, and landed on the bank, which was all alive with hundreds of boats. The German Vice-consul, Herr Duisberg, who had shown me so much kindness at the time of my former visit, again received me most hospitably. In his elegant and commodious house, I had every opportunity for rest and refreshment in anticipation of my coming labours.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] These appear to belong to the same species which
Wellsted (‘Travels to the City of the Caliphs,’ vol. ii.
p. 286) observed on the island of Socotra and (‘Travels in
Arabia,’ vol. ii. p. 449) on the south coast of Arabia.

[4] The accompanying plate gives a faithful representation
of the stiff forms of the dracænæ, surrounded by the still
more rigid complications of rocks in the height of the
pass. In the illustration, besides the dracæna, may be seen
the Kolkwal-euphorbiæ, and in the right hand corner the
Caraïb.

[5] The sketch on the preceding page is taken carefully
from nature.

[6] The rup is a measure equal in weight to seven and a
half litres, or about five oka, and containing under two
English gallons.