Chapter XXII (7)

It was shortly before we came to this village that we passed the enormous skeleton of an elephant,—the first trace of this animal which I had seen since Gazáwa (I mean the independent pagan place of that name between Tasáwa and Kátsena). The road was frequented; early in the morning we had met a party of tugúrchi with pack-oxen, who had been travelling a great part of the night, as they generally do, on account of this beast of burden bearing the heat of the day very badly. About an hour’s march beyond Kálowa we met a party of horsemen coming from Kúkawa; and as their head man appeared to be an intelligent person, I approached him, and asked him the news of the place. He most probably took me for an Arab, and told me that all was well, but that the Christian who had been coming from a far distant country to pay his compliments to the sheikh had died, more than twenty days ago, in a place called Ngurútuwa, before reaching Kúkawa. There could now be no more doubt of the sad event; and with deep emotion I continued my march, praying to the Merciful to grant me better success than had fallen to the lot of my companion, and to strengthen me, that I might carry out the benevolent and humane purposes of our mission.

This district also has a very scanty supply of water; and it took us more than half an hour to collect, from four wells near another small village, a sufficient supply for my horse; but as to filling our waterskins, it was not to be thought of. The wells were ten fathoms deep. We halted half an hour before noon, not far from another well, at the foot of a sandy swell upon which the little village “Mʿallem Kerémerí” is situated. Here, as well as in the village passed in the morning, we could not obtain beans, though the cultivation of them is in general carried on to a great extent; but this district seemed to produce millet or _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_ almost exclusively—at least no sorghum was to be seen. Keeping generally along a hollow, which however was not much depressed, and which consisted of arable sandy soil with a few bushes and trees, we reached the little town or village Dunú, surrounded with a ditch and earthen wall in decay, so that the gate had become useless. There was a large open space inside, and as the inhabitants, who gave us a very cheerful welcome, advised us not to encamp outside, on account of the number of wild beasts infesting the neighbourhood, we pitched the tent inside the wall.

We might have passed a very comfortable evening with the natives, who took great interest in me, had it not been for my faithful old companion the Bu-séfi, the best (or rather the only good one) of my three camels, which, when it was growing dark, and ʿAbd-Alla went to bring the animals back from their pasture, could not be found. The careless boy had neglected to fasten the camel’s legs; and being very hungry, it had gone in search of better herbage. This was a very disagreeable accident for me, as I was in the greatest hurry; and my two young lads, who were well aware of it, went for several hours, accompanied by the inhabitants of the place, in every direction, through the whole tract where the camels had been grazing, lighting the ground with torches, but all in vain.

Wearied and exhausted, they returned about midnight and lay down to sleep, the music and dance also, which the cheerful natives had kept up, dying away at the same time. About an hour later, being too much excited from anxiety to obtain sleep, I went out once more to see if all was right, when I saw my favourite coming slowly along towards the tent; and on reaching it he laid down by the side of his two inferior companions. There was no moonlight; the night was very dark; evidently only the brightness of the well-known white tent guided the “stupid” animal. But this was no great proof of stupidity; and I am rather afraid that Europeans often make camels stupid by their own foolish treatment of them, whereas I was wont to treat this noble animal, which had carried myself or the heaviest of my things all the way from Tripoli, as a sensible companion, giving it in the beginning the peel of the oranges I was eating, of which it was particularly fond, or a few of my dates (for which it did not fail to turn round its beautiful neck), or granting it a little extra feed of Negro millet, which it ate like a horse. Rejoiced at seeing my favourite, the absence of which had created such anxiety, returning of its own accord to my tent, and lying down near it, I aroused my servant from his sleep to tell him the joyful news. I wanted to reward it with some corn, but it had taken such good care of itself, that it refused its favourite food.

I was much grieved in consequence of being obliged to part with my old companion; but camels from the coast will not stand the effects of a rainy season in Negroland. I hoped it would safely return to its native country; but the Arab who bought it from me, went first to Kanó when the rainy season was already setting in, and the poor animal died not far from the place where Mr. Richardson had succumbed. Its fidelity will ever remain in my memory as one of the pleasantest recollections of my journey.

Having thus got back our best carrier, though we had lost a good night’s rest, we started early next morning over the same sort of ground we had been traversing the last few days, and in two hours reached the little town of Wádi, the noise from which, caused by the pounding of grain, had been heard by us at the distance of almost a mile. Indeed the pounding of grain has betrayed many a little village and many a caravan. The town is considerable, but properly consists of two different quarters walled all round, and separated from each other by a wide open space where the cattle rest in safety. Approving very much of this way of building a town in these turbulent regions, we kept along the open space, but were greatly perplexed from the number of paths branching off in every direction, and scarcely knew which road to take.

It had been my intention originally to go to Borzári, in the hope of obtaining from the governor of that town a horseman to carry the news of my approach to the sheikh of Bórnu; but being here informed that I should be obliged to make a great circuit in order to touch at that place, I changed my plan, and took another and more direct road, which in the beginning seemed a well-trodden highroad, but soon became a narrow footpath, winding along from village to village without any leading direction. However, we met several small caravans as well of Arabs, who were going to Kanó, as of native traders or tugúrchi with natron. Passing now over open cultivated ground, then through a bushy thicket, we reached, about ten o’clock in the morning, the considerable open village Kábowa, where a well-frequented and very noisy market was being held, and halted during the heat of the day under a shady tamarind-tree about five hundred yards to the south, near a “kaudi” or “kabéa tseggénabé” (a yard for weaving cotton).

We had scarcely unloaded our camels, when one of the weavers came, and, saluting me most cordially, begged me to accept of a dish of very well prepared “fura” or “tiggra,” with curdled milk, which evidently formed their breakfast. The market was very partially supplied, and did not furnish what we wanted. Natron, salt, and túrkedi, or the cloth for female dress made in Kanó, constituted the three articles which were plentiful; also a good many cattle, or rather pack-oxen, were there, besides two camels and abundance of the fruit of the dúm-palm; but meat was dear, onions extremely scarce, and beans not to be got at all, and, what was worse, the people refused to accept shells (“kúngona” in Kanúri), of which we had still a small supply, and wanted gábagá, or cotton stripes, of which we had none. Our camels, therefore, which hereabouts found plenty of their favourite and nourishing food, the aghúl or _Hedysarum Alhaggi_, fared much better than we ourselves. The neighbourhood had rather a dreary aspect; the east wind was very high and troublesome; the well was distant, and, with a depth of eight fathoms, did not furnish the supply necessary for the numerous visitors to the market.

Early in the afternoon we continued our march, first in the company of some market-people returning to their native village, then left to our judgment to discriminate, among the numberless footpaths which intersected the country in every direction, the one which was most direct or rather least circuitous; for a direct highroad there is none. We became at length so heartily tired of groping our way alone, that we attached ourselves to a horseman who invited us to accompany him to his village, till, becoming aware that it lay too much out of our way, we ascended the slope of a sandy ridge to our right, on the summit of which was situated the village Lúshiri, where we pitched our tent.

Here also the inhabitants behaved hospitably; and I had scarcely dismounted, when a woman from a neighbouring hut brought me a bowl of ghussub-water as a refreshment. We succeeded also in buying here a good supply of beans and sorghum—or ngáberi, as it is called in Kanúri; for my Kátsena horse refused to eat the millet or argúm, and sorghum is very scarce in all this part of the country as well as in many other districts of Bórnu, especially in the district of Koyám. The women of the village, who were very curious to see the interior of my tent, were greatly surprised to find that I was a bachelor, and without a female partner, accustomed, as they were, to see travellers in this country, at least those tolerably at their ease, with a train of female slaves. They expressed their astonishment in much diverting chat with each other. I got also milk and a fowl for my supper, and the bíllama afterwards brought some “ngáji” (the favourite Kanúri dish) for my men. As the situation of the village was elevated, it was most interesting to see in the evening the numerous fires of the hamlets and small towns all around, giving a favourable idea of the local population.

[Sidenote: Thursday, March 27th.]

Early in the morning we continued our march; but we lost a great deal of time through ignorance of the direct way. Some of the paths appear, at times, like a well-frequented highroad, when suddenly almost every trace of them is lost. At length, at the walled town of Gobálgorúm, we learned that we were on the road to Kashímma; and we determined to keep on as straight as possible. The country which we traversed early in the morning consisted of stiff clayey soil, and produced ngáberi; but this was only a sort of basin of no great extent, and the landscape soon changed its character. After we had passed Gobálgorúm, the country became much richer in trees; and this circumstance, as well as the increased number of waterfowl, indicated plainly that we were approaching a branch of the wide-spreading net of the komádugu of Bórnu.

First we came to a hollow clothed with a great profusion of vegetation and the freshest pasturage, but at present dry, with the exception of a fine pond of clear water on our left; and we marched full three miles through a dense forest before we came to the real channel, which here, running south and north, formed an uninterrupted belt of water as far as the eye could reach, but at present without any current. It looked just like an artificial canal, having almost everywhere the same breadth of about fifty yards, and, at the place where we crossed it, a depth of two feet and a half.

We halted, during the heat of the day, on its eastern shore, in the shade of one of the small gáwo-trees which border it on this side; and after our dreary and rather uninteresting march from Kanó, I was greatly delighted with the animated and luxuriant character of the scene before us. The water of this komádugu, moreover, though it was fully exposed to the power of the sun’s rays, was delightfully cool, while that from the wells was disagreeably warm, having a mean temperature of 77°, and quite unfit to drink until allowed to cool. The river was full of small fish; and about twenty boys from the village of Shógo, which lay upon the summit of the rising ground before us, were plashing about in it in playful exercise, and catching the fish with a large net of peculiar make, which they dragged through the water. This komádugu too is called Wáni; and I think it more probable that this is the continuation of the branch which passes Katágum, than that the latter joins the branch of Khadéja to the southward of Zurríkulo.

While we were resting here, I was pestered a little by the curiosity of a company of gipsy-like Jétko, who, with very little luggage, traverse the country in every direction, and are the cleverest thieves in the world. I shall, on another occasion, say something about the settlements of these people along the komádugu Wáube.

A native of the village, whom we had met on the road, came afterwards, with his wife, and brought me a dish of well-cooked hasty-pudding; and on my complaining that, though in great haste, we were losing so much time, owing to our being unacquainted with the nearest road, he promised to serve us as a guide: but unfortunately I made him a present too soon; and as he did not keep his word, we preferred groping our way onwards as well as possible. Our camels had meanwhile got a good feed in the cool shade of the trees; for if exposed to the sun, these animals will not eat during the heat of the day, but prefer lying down.

With fresh spirit and energy we started, therefore, at half-past two in the afternoon, ascending the considerable slope of the ridge upon which the village stands. At this hour the sun was very powerful, and none of the inhabitants were to be seen, with the exception of an industrious female who, on a clean open spot near the road, was weaving the cotton threads into gábagá. Opposite the village to the north of the path, was a round cluster of light Kánembú cottages, formed in a most simple way, with the long stalks of the native corn bent so as to meet at the top, and fastened with a few ropes. Descending immediately from this considerable ridge, we entered a dale thickly overgrown with trees, where I was greatly astonished to see a herd of cattle watered, with great trouble, from the wells, while the river was close at hand; but on addressing the neatherds, I was informed by them that the stagnant water of the komádugu at this season is very unwholesome for cattle.

All the trees hereabouts were full of locusts, while the air was darkened by swarms of hawks (_Cenchreis_), which, with a singular instinct, followed our steps as we advanced; for on our approaching a tree, the locusts, roused from their fatal repose and destructive revelling, took to flight in thick clouds, when the birds dashed down to catch them, often not only beating one another with their wings, but even incommoding us and our animals not a little.

The peculiar character of lofty sandy ridges and thickly overgrown hollows continued also in this district; no dúm-palm was to be seen, but only the dúm-bush, called ngílle by the Bórnu people. About two miles and a half behind Shógo we passed a wide and most beautiful basin, with rich pasture-grounds enlivened by numbers of well-fed cattle. Stubble- fields, with small granaries such as I have described above, were scattered about here and there. Then keeping on through a more level country with patches of cultivation, we reached the fields of Bandégo. The village introduced itself to our notice from afar by the sound of noisy mirth; and I was surprised to hear that it was occasioned by the celebration, not of a marriage, but of a circumcision. This was the first and last time during my travels in Negroland that I saw this ceremony performed with so much noise.

We were quietly pitching our tent on the east side of the village, and I was about to make myself comfortable, when I was not a little affected by learning that the girls, who had been bringing little presents to the festival, and who were just returning in procession to their homes, belonged to Ngurútuwa, the very place where the Christian (Mr. Richardson) had died. I then determined to accompany them, though it was late, in order to have at least a short glimpse of the “white man’s grave,” and to see whether it were taken care of. If I had known, before we unloaded the camels, how near we were to the place, I should have gone there at once to spend the night.

Ngurútuwa,[50] once a large and celebrated place, but at present somewhat in decay, lies in a wide and extensive plain, with very few trees, about two miles N.E. from Bandégo; but the town itself is well shaded, and has, besides kórna and bíto, some wide-spreading umbrageous fig-trees, under one of which Mr. Richardson had been buried. His grave, well-protected with thorn-bushes, appeared to have remained untouched, and was likely to remain so. The natives were well aware that it was a Christian who had died here; and they regarded the tomb with reverence. The story of his untimely end had caused some sensation in the neighbourhood. He arrived in a weak state in the evening, and early the next morning he died. The people had taken great interest in the matter; and the report they gave me of the way in which he was buried agreed in the main circumstances with that which I afterwards received from his servants, and of which I forwarded an account from Kúkawa. Unfortunately I had no means of bestowing gifts on the inhabitants of the place where my companion had died. I gave, however, a small present to a man who promised to take especial care of the grave; and I afterwards persuaded the vizier of Bórnu to have a stronger fence made round it.

It was late in the evening when I returned to my tent engrossed with reflections on my own probable fate, and sincerely thankful to the Almighty Ruler of all things for the excellent health which I still enjoyed notwithstanding the many fatigues which I had undergone. My way of looking at things was not quite the same as that of my late companion, and we had therefore often had little differences; but I esteemed him highly for the deep sympathy which he felt for the sufferings of the native African, and deeply lamented his death. Full of confidence I stretched myself upon my mat, and indulged in my simple supper, accompanied with a bowl of milk which the inhabitants of Bandégo had brought me. The people were all pleased with us; only the cattle, when returning from their pastures, took offence at my strange-looking tent, which I had pitched just in the path by which they were accustomed to return to their usual resting-place.

[Sidenote: Friday, March 28th.]

At an early hour we were again on the march, conducted a little while by an inhabitant of the village, who undertook to show us the direct road, which passes on its south side. He represented the road which we were about to take as much infested by the Kindín or Tawárek at that moment; and he advised us, as we went on from one place to another, to make strict inquiries as to the safety of the road before us. With this well- meant advice he left us to our own discretion; and I pursued my way with the unsatisfactory feeling that it might be again my fate to come into too close contact with my friends the Tawárek, whom I had been so glad to get rid of. Saddened with these reflections, my two young companions also seeming a little oppressed, and trudging silently along with the camels, we reached Aláune, once a considerable town, but now almost deserted, and surrounded by a clay wall in a state of great decay. Accosting the people, who were just drawing water from the well inside the wall, and asking them about the state of the road, we were told that, as far as Kashímma, it was safe; but beyond that they pronounced it decidedly dangerous. We therefore continued our march with more confidence, particularly as we met some market-people coming from Kashímma.

Aláune is the same place which, by the members of the last expedition, has been called Kabshári, from the name of the then governor of the town—Bu-Bakr-Kabshári—after whom the place is even at present often called “bílla Kabshári_be_” (the town of Kabshári). Keeping on through a country partly cultivated, partly covered with thick underwood, which was full of locusts, we were greatly delighted by obtaining at about eight o’clock a view of a fine sheet of water, in the dale before us, surrounded with a luxuriant vegetation, and descended cheerfully towards its shore, where two magnificent tamarind-trees spread their canopy-like foliage over a carpet of succulent turf. While enjoying this beautiful picture, I was about to allow my poor horse a little feed of the grass, when a woman, who had come to fetch water, told me that it was very unwholesome.

This is the great komádugu of Bórnu, the real name of which is “komádugu Wáube,” while, just from the same mistake which has caused Aláune to be called Kabshári, and the river of Zyrmi, Zyrmi, it has been called Yeou; for though it may be called the river of Yeou, or rather of Yó, particularly in its lower course, where it passes the town of this name, it can never be called “the river Yó,” any more than the Thames, on account of its flowing through London, can be called the river London.

While ordering ʿAbd-Alla to follow with the camels along the lower road, I ascended with Mohammed the steep slope of the sandy swell, rising to about three hundred feet, on the top of which Kashímma is situated in a fine healthy situation commanding the whole valley. It is an open place, consisting entirely of huts made of corn-stalks and reeds, but is of considerable size and well inhabited. However, I was not disposed to make any halt here; and learning, to my great satisfaction, that no Kindín had been seen as far as the Eastern Ngurútuwa, I determined to go on as fast as possible, and persuaded a netmaker to point out clearly to me the road which we were to take; for we had now rather difficult ground before us—the wide bottom of the valley, with its thick forest and its several watery channels.

The path led us gradually down from the eminence upon which Kashímma is situated, into the bushy dale with a great quantity of ngílle, and also a few dúm-palms. Here we saw numerous foot-prints of the elephant, and some of enormous size; and truly the wanderer cannot be surprised that this colossal animal has taken possession of these beautiful, luxuriant shores of the komádugu, from which the native in his inborn laziness has despairingly retired, and allowed them to be converted into an almost impenetrable jungle. The thicket became for a while very dense, a real jungle, such as I had not yet seen in Negroland, when a clearer spot followed, overgrown with tall coarse grass ten feet high, fed by the water which after the rainy season covers the whole of this low ground, and offering a rich pasture to the elephant. Then we had to traverse a branch of the real komádugu, at present very shallow, but at times to be crossed only with the aid of a “mákara.” In the thick covert which bordered upon this channel the dúm-palm was entirely predominant.

Though the thicket was here so dense, the path was well trodden, but as soon as we reached a place which had been cleared for cultivation we lost all traces of it, and then turned off to our right, where we saw a small village and a farm situated in the most retired spot imaginable. Here we found a cheerful old man, the master of the farm, who, on hearing that we too were going eastwards, begged us, very urgently, to spend the remainder of the day in his company, adding that he would treat us well and start early the next morning with us for Ngurútuwa; but however delightful it might appear to me to dream away half a day in this wilderness, my anxiety to reach Kúkawa compelled me to reject his proposal. However, the thicket became so dense, that we had the utmost difficulty in getting my bulky luggage through it.

Having made a short halt about noon to refresh ourselves and our animals, we continued our march through the forest, which here consisted principally of dúm-palms, farʿaón, kálgo, talha-trees, and a little siwák or _Capparis sodata_. The ground was covered with the heavy footprints of the elephant, and even at this season it retained many ponds in the channel-like hollows. A solitary maráya or mohhor (_Antilope Soemmeringii_) bounded through the thicket; indeed antelopes of any species are rare in these quarters, and on the whole road I had seen but a single gazelle, near the village Díggere-báre. But it seems remarkable that from the description of the natives there cannot be the least doubt that that large and majestic variety of antelope called _addax_, which is very much like a large stag, is occasionally found here. A fine open space with rich pastures and with hurdle-inclosures interrupted the thicket for about a mile, after which we had to traverse another thick covert, and emerging from it were agreeably surprised at beholding a lake of considerable dimensions on our left, and after a short interval another still more considerable approaching from the north and turning eastward, its surface furrowed by the wind and hurrying along in little billows which dashed upon the shore. On its eastern side lie the ruins of the celebrated town Ghámbarú, which although not the official residence of the kings of Bórnu, was nevertheless their favourite retreat during the flourishing period of the empire; and those two lakes, although connected with the komádugu and fed by it, were artificial basins, and seem to have considerable depth; else they could scarcely have presented such a magnificent sheet of water at this season of the year.

But at present all this district, the finest land of Bórnu in the proper sense of the word, which once resounded with the voices and bustle of hundreds of towns and villages, has become one impenetrable jungle, the domain of the elephant and the lion, and with no human inhabitants except a few scattered herdsmen or cattle-breeders, who are exposed every moment to the predatory inroads of the Tawárek. This condition of the finest part of the country is a disgrace to its present rulers, who have nothing to do but to transfer hither a few hundreds of their lazy slaves, and establish them in a fortified place, whereupon the natives would immediately gather round them and change this fine country along the komádugu from an impenetrable jungle into rich fields, producing not only grain but also immense quantities of cotton and indigo.

The town of Ghámbarú was taken and destroyed by the Jemáʿa of the Fúlbe or Felláta at the same time with Ghasréggomo, or Bírni, in the year of the Héjra 1224, or 1809 of our era, and has not been since reoccupied, so that the ruins are thickly overgrown and almost enveloped in the forest. Although I had not leisure to survey attentively the whole area of the town, I could not help dismounting and looking with great interest at a tolerably well preserved building, evidently part of a mosque, at the south-eastern corner of the wall. I knew, from the report of the last expedition, that there were here remains of brick buildings; but I did not expect to find the workmanship so good. The bricks are certainly not so regularly-shaped as in Europe, but in other respects they seemed quite as good. It is indeed a source of mournful reflection for the traveller to compare this solid mode of building practised in former times in this country, at least by its rulers, with the frail and ephemeral architecture of the present day; but this impression of retrograding power and resources is caused also by the history of the country, which we shall soon lay before our readers. Even in the half- barbarous country of Bagírmi we may still find the remains of very extensive brick buildings.

Overtaking the two young companions of my adventurous journey, I travelled on through an interesting but wild country, when at five o’clock in the afternoon a branch of the river once more approached on our left, and soon cut across our path, leaving no trace of it. I felt sure that the track crossed the river here, but unfortunately allowed myself to be overruled by my servant (who was in truth an experienced lad); and accordingly we kept along the sandy border of the channel, following the traces of cattle till we became assured that there was no path in this place. Having searched for about two hours, we were at last compelled, by the darkness which had set in, to encamp in the midst of this dense forest; and I chose a small hillock on the border of the river, in order to protect myself, as well as possible, from the noxious exhalations, and spread my tent over my luggage, in the midst of which I arranged my bed. I then strewed, in a circle round our little encampment, dry wood and other fuel, to be kindled in case of an attack of wild beasts, and, taking out a parcel of cartridges, prepared for the worst. However, we passed a quiet night, disturbed only by the roaring of a lion on the other side of the river, and by a countless multitude of waterfowl of various species, playing and splashing about in the water the whole night.

[Sidenote: Saturday, March 29th.]

Having convinced myself that the river could be crossed by the path only at the place where we first came upon it, I mounted early in the morning, after we had loaded the camels, and returned to that spot, when, having crossed the stream, I found the continuation of the path on the other side. At length we were again _en route_, having lost altogether about three hours of our precious time. However, my companions thought that nevertheless we should not have been able the previous evening, in the twilight, to reach the next station, the name of which is also Ngurútuwa; so dense was the forest in some places, and such difficulty had we in getting through with our luggage, so that we were at times almost reduced to despair.

Beyond the village mentioned we should not have succeeded in finding an outlet, had we not met with some shepherds who were tending numerous flocks of sheep and goats. All was one thorny covert, where kaña and bírgim, the African plum-tree, were, together with mimosa, the predominant trees. Near the village, however, which lies in the midst of the forest, very fine fields of wheat occupied a considerable open space, the corn standing now about a foot and a half high, and presented a most charming sight, particularly when compared with the scanty industry which we had hitherto observed in this, the finest part of the country.

Keeping then close to the narrow path, we reached, half an hour before noon, an open place of middle size called Míkibá, and halted between the village and the well, which, being in a hollow, is only three fathoms deep. Being obliged to allow the camels a good feed, as they had got nothing the previous evening, we did not start again till four o’clock in the afternoon; and it was in vain that I endeavoured to buy some provisions from the inhabitants with the few indifferent articles which I had to offer them: the small fancy wares of Nuremberg manufacture proved too worthless and frail even for these barbarians. The people, however, endeavoured to frighten us by their accounts of the roads before us—and indeed, as it afterwards appeared, they were not quite wrong; but we could not stay a night with people so inhospitable, and, besides, I had lost already too much time.

Confiding, therefore, in my good luck, I was again in the saddle by four o’clock, the country being now clearer of wood, though generally in a wild, neglected state. After a little more than two miles’ march, near a patch of cultivated ground I saw a group of three monkeys of the same species, apparently, as those in Ásben. In general, monkeys seem not to be frequent in the inhabited parts of Negroland. The day with its brightness was already fading away, and darkness setting in filled us with anxiety as to where we might pass the night with some security, when, to our great delight, we observed in the distance to our right the light of some fires glittering through a thicket of dúm-palms, tamarinds, and other large trees. We endeavoured, therefore, to open a path to them, cheered in our effort by the pleasing sound of dance and song which came from the same direction.

It proved to be a wandering company of happy herdsmen, who bade us a hearty welcome after they had recognized us as harmless travellers; and, well satisfied at seeing our resolution thus rewarded, we pitched our tent in the midst of their huts and numerous herds. Entering then into conversation with them, I learnt to my astonishment that they were neither Kanúri nor Háusa people, but Felláta, or Fúlbe of the tribe of the Óbore[51], who, notwithstanding the enmity existing between their kinsmen and the ruler of Bórnu, are allowed to pasture their herds here in full security, so far as they are able to defend themselves against the robberies of the Tawárek, and without even paying any tribute to the sheikh. However, their immigration into this country does not date from very ancient times; and they appear not to have kept their stock pure from intermixture, so that they have lost almost all the national marks of the Fulfúlde race.

They seemed to be in easy circumstances, the elder men bringing me each of them an immense bowl of milk, and a little fresh butter as cleanly prepared as in any English or Swiss dairy. This was a substantial proof of their nationality; for all over Bórnu no butter is prepared except with the dirty and disgusting addition of some cow’s urine, and it is all in a fluid state. The hospitable donors were greatly delighted when I gave to each of them a sailor’s knife; but on our part we were rather perplexed by their bounty, as I and my two boys might easily have drowned ourselves in such a quantity of milk. Meanwhile, as I was chatting with the old people, the younger ones continued their singing and dancing till a late hour with a perseverance most amusing, though little favourable for our night’s rest; moreover, we were startled several times by some of the cattle, which lay close to our tent, starting up occasionally and running furiously about. There was a lion very near; but the blaze of the fires kept him off. Our friends did not possess a single dog—but this was another mark of nationality; they rely entirely upon their own watchfulness.

In consequence of our disturbed night’s rest, we set out at rather a late hour, accompanied by two of our friends, in order to show us the ford of the komádugu, which, they told us, ran close to their encampment. And it was well that we had their assistance; for though the water was but three feet deep at the spot where they led us through, it was much deeper on both sides, and we might easily have met with an accident. It was here about five and thirty yards across, and was quite stagnant. It is, doubtless, the same water which I had crossed at Kashímma, where, with its several branches, it occupied an immense valley, and again just before I came to the Eastern Ngurútuwa.

Our hospitable friends did not leave us till they had assisted us through the extremely dense covert which borders the eastern bank of the river. They then returned, recommending us very strongly to be on our guard, as we should have the komádugu always on our left, where some robbers were generally lurking. We had not proceeded far when we met an archer on horseback following the traces of a band of Tawárek, who, as he told us, had last night made an attack upon another encampment or village of herdsmen, but had been beaten off. He pursued his way in order to make out whether the robbers had withdrawn. An archer on horseback is an unheard-of thing not only in Bórnu, but in almost all Negroland, except with the Fúlbe; but even among them it is rare. Fortunately the country was here tolerably open, so that we could not be taken by surprise, and we were greatly reassured when we met a troop of native travellers, three of whom were carrying each a pair of bukhsa or ngibú, immense calabashes joined at the bottom by a piece of strong wood, but open on the top.

These are the simple ferry-boats of the country, capable of carrying one or two persons, who have nothing besides their clothes (which they may deposit inside the calabashes), safely, but certainly not dryly across a stream. In order to transport heavier things, three pairs, joined in the way I shall have an opportunity of describing at another time, will form a sufficiently buoyant raft. This would form the most useful expedient for any European traveller who should undertake to penetrate into the equatorial regions, which abound in water; but if he has much luggage, he ought to have four pairs of calabashes, and a strong frame to extend across them.

The great advantage of such a portable boat is, that the parts can be most easily carried on men’s backs through the most rugged and mountainous regions, while the raft so formed will be strong enough, if the parts are well fastened together, for going down a river; but of course if they came into contact with rocks, the calabashes would be liable to break. Horses must swim across a river in these countries; but even their crossing a powerful stream safely would be greatly facilitated if they were protected against the current by such a float lying along their sides. On my succeeding journeys I often wished to be in the possession of such a boat.

Amusing myself with such thoughts, and indulging in happy anticipations of future discoveries, I continued my solitary march cheerfully and with confidence. To our left the channel of the komádugu once approached, but soon receded again and gave way to the site of a considerable deserted town, containing at present but a small hamlet of cattle-breeders, and called significantly “fáto ghaná” (few huts). This was the site of the celebrated town of Dámasak. The country was here adorned with trees of fine foliage, and was enlivened besides by large flocks of goats and sheep, and by a small caravan which we fell in with. We then passed, on our right, a considerable pool of stagnant water, apparently caused by the overflowing of the komádugu, and further on observed a few patches of cotton-ground well fenced and protected from the cattle. Then followed stubble-fields adorned with fine trees, in the shade of which the cattle reposed in animated groups. The soil consisted of sand, and was burrowed throughout in large holes by the earth-hog (_Orycteropus Æthiopicus_).

Thus about half-past ten we reached the neat little village Ájirí, and encamped at a short distance from it, under a cluster of beautiful and shady tamarind-trees, not knowing that, as the cemetery of some venerated persons, it was a sanctified place; however, on being informed of this circumstance, we were careful not to pollute it. I now learned that I had not followed the shortest track to Kúkawa, which passes by Kamsándi, but that Yusuf (Mr. Richardson’s interpreter), with the Christian’s property, had also taken this road. I might therefore have pursued my journey directly to that residence, and should have had the company of a corn-caravan, which was about to set forward in the afternoon; but as it was absolutely necessary that I should send word to the sheikh that I was coming, and as there was no other governor or officer on the track before me from whom I might obtain a decent and trustworthy messenger, I preferred going a little more out of my way in order to visit the Kashélla Khér-Alla, an officer stationed by the sheikh in the most exposed place of this district, in order to protect it against the inroads of the Tawárek.

Having, therefore, taken a hearty leave of the villagers, who had all collected round me, listening with astonishment and delight to the performance of my musical box, I started again at an early hour in the afternoon, accompanied, for a little while, by the bíllama, and continuing in a north-easterly direction. The country in general presented nothing but pasture-grounds, with only some cultivation of grain and patches of cotton-fields near the hamlet Yerálla, which, after a little more than three miles, we passed on our left. Further on the komádugu again approached on the same side; and we were obliged to go round it in a sharp angle to reach the village where the Kashélla had his residence.

Having pitched the tent, I went to pay him my compliments, and had the satisfaction to find him a friendly, cheerful person, who at once ordered one of his best men to mount and to start for Kúkawa, in order to carry to the vizier the news of my arrival. He is a liberated slave, who, having distinguished himself by his valour in the unfortunate battle at Kúsuri, has been stationed here at the vizier’s suggestion. His power, however, is not great, considering the wide extent of the district which he has to protect, as he has only seventy horsemen under his command, twenty of whom are constantly employed in watching the motions of the predatory bands of the Tawárek. These are chiefly the inhabitants of the little principality of Alákkos, of which I have had occasion to speak above, who, like all the Tawárek, in general are not very fond of serious fighting, but rather try to carry off a good booty, in slaves or cattle, by surprise. Khér-Alla has already done a great deal for the security and welfare of the district where he resides, the population of which is intermixed with Tébu elements, and cannot be trusted; but he evidently cannot extend his protecting hand much further westward than Ájiri.

Feeling deeply the disgraceful state of this, the finest portion of Bórnu, I afterwards advised the vizier to build watch-towers all along the komádugu, from the town Yó as far as the western Ngurútuwa, the place where Mr. Richardson died, which would make it easy to keep off the sudden inroads of those predatory tribes, and, in consequence, the whole country would become the secure abode of a numerous population; but even the best of these mighty men cares more for the silver ornaments of his numerous wives than for the welfare of his people.

I presented Khér-Alla with a red cap, a pair of English scissors, and some other small things; and he spent the whole evening in my tent, listening with delight to the cheerful Swiss air played by my musical box.

[Sidenote: Monday, March 31st.]

At a tolerably early hour, I set out to continue my march, accompanied by a younger brother and a trusty servant of the kashélla, both on horseback, and traversed the entire district. It is called Dúchi, and is well inhabited in a great number of widely-scattered villages. The soil is sandy, and corn-fields and pasture-grounds succeed each other alternately; but I did not see much cattle. I was astonished also to find so little cultivation of cotton. Having met a small troop of tugúrchi with pack-oxen, we made a halt, a little after eleven o’clock, near the first village of the district, Dímberwá.

My two companions wanted to obtain here a guide for me, but were unsuccessful; however, after we had started again at three o’clock, they procured a man from the bíllama of the next village, and then left me. I wished to obtain a guide to conduct me at once to Kúkawa; but I was obliged to submit to this arrangement, though nothing is more tedious and wearisome than to be obliged to change the guide at every little place, particularly if the traveller be in a hurry. It might be inferred, from the number of little paths crossing each other in every direction, that the country is thickly inhabited; and a considerable troop of tugúrchi gave proof of some intercourse. Dark-coloured, swampy ground, called “ánge,” at times interrupted the sandy soil, which was covered with fine pasture; and we gradually ascended a little. I had already changed my guide four times, when, after some trouble, I obtained another at the village Gúsumrí; but the former guide had scarcely turned his back, when his successor in office decamped, most probably in order not to miss his supper, and, after some useless threatening, I had again to grope my way onward as well as I could. Darkness was already setting in when I encamped near the village Bággem, where I was treated hospitably by the inhabitants of the nearest cottage.

[Sidenote: Tuesday, April 1st.]

Keeping through an open country with sandy soil and good pasture, we reached, a little after nine o’clock, the well of Úra, a village lying at some distance to the left of the path, and here filled a waterskin, and watered the horse; but, hurrying on as we were, perhaps we did not allow the poor beast sufficient time to fill his stomach. Having then marched on through an open country, where large trees cease altogether, only detached clusters of bushes appearing here and there, and where we saw a large herd of ostriches and a troop of gazelles, we halted a little before noon in the scanty shade of a small _Balanites_.

About two o’clock in the afternoon, after man and beast had enjoyed a little repose and food, we prepared to continue our march; and my horse was already saddled, my bernús hanging over the saddle, when I perceived that my two youngsters could not manage our swift and capricious she- camel, and that, having escaped from their hands, although her forelegs were tied together, she baffled all their efforts to catch her again. Confiding, therefore, in the staid and obedient disposition of my horse, I ran to assist them, and we at length succeeded in catching the camel; but when I returned to the place where I had left my horse, it was gone, and it was with some difficulty that we found its tracks, showing that it had returned in the direction whence we had come. It had strayed nearly as far as the well of Úra, when it was most fortunately stopped by some musketeers marching to Kúkawa, who met my boy, when he had already gone halfway in pursuit of it.

In consequence of this _contretemps_, it was five o’clock when we again set out on our march; and in order to retrieve the lost time, I kept steadily on till half an hour before midnight. At seven o’clock we passed a considerable village called Búwa, where the troops, horse and foot, which had passed us some time before, had taken up their quarters, and two miles further on we had villages on our right and left; but still there were few signs of population, probably because, owing to the lateness of the hour, the fires were extinguished. We encamped, at length, near a small village, but had reason to repent our choice; for while we were unable to procure a drop of water, the inhabitants being obliged to bring their supply from a considerable distance, we were annoyed the whole night by a violent quarrel between a man and his two wives. But here I must remark that I very rarely witnessed such disgusting scenes during the whole of my travels in Negroland.

[Footnote 50: Ngurútuwa, properly meaning the place full of hippopotami, is a very common name in Bórnu, just as in “Rúóa-n-dorina” (the water of the hippopotami) is a wide-spread name given by Háusa travellers to any water which they may find in the wilderness.]

[Footnote 51: The name looks rather strange to me, a tribe of the Fúlbe of this name not having otherwise come to my knowledge; and I am almost inclined to think that these poor herdsmen, separated from their kinsmen, have corrupted the name originally Úrube. The Óbore, however, are even known at present in other parts of the kingdom, and were met with by Mr. Overweg on his journey to Gújeba.]

CHAP. XXVIII.

ARRIVAL IN KÚKAWA.

[Sidenote: Wednesday, April 2nd.]

This was to be a most momentous day of my travels; for I was to reach that place which was the first distinct object of our mission, and I was to come into contact with those people on whose ill or good-will depended the whole success of our mission.

Although encamped late at night, we were again up at an early hour; but in endeavouring to return to the track which we had left the preceding night, we inadvertently crossed it, and so came to another village, with a very numerous herd of cattle, where we became aware of our error, and then had to regain the main road.

Two miles afterwards there was a very great change in the character of the country; for the sandy soil which had characterized the district all along the komádugu now gave way to clay, where water is only met with at considerable depth. We met a troop of tugúrchi, who informed us that none of the villages along our track at the present moment had a supply of water, not even the considerable village Kangáruwa, but that at the never-failing well of Beshér I should be able to water my horse. This news only served to confirm me in my resolution to ride on in advance, in order as well to water my poor beast before the greatest heat of the day, as to reach the residence in good time.

I therefore took leave of my two young servants, and, giving Mohammed strict orders to follow me with the camels as fast as possible, I hastened on. The wooded level became now interrupted from time to time by bare naked concavities, or shallow hollows, consisting of black sedimentary soil, where, during the rainy season, the water collects and, drying up gradually, leaves a most fertile sediment for the cultivation of the másakwá. This is a peculiar kind of holcus, (_Holcus cernuus_,) which forms a very important article in the agriculture of Bórnu. Sown soon after the end of the rainy season, it grows up entirely by the fructifying power of the soil, and ripens with the assistance only of the abundant dews, which fall here usually in the months following the rainy season. These hollows, which are the most characteristic natural feature in the whole country, and which encompass the south-western corner of the great lagoon of Central Africa throughout a distance of more than sixty miles from its present shore, are called “ghadír” by the Arabs, “fírki,” or “ánge,” by the Kanúri. Indeed they amply testify to the far greater extent of the lagoon in ante-historical times.