Chapter XXV…

Chapter XXV

RESIDENCE IN KANÓ.—VIEW OF ITS INTERIOR.—ITS HISTORY AND PRESENT STATE.—COMMERCE.

Kanó for us was a station of importance not only from a scientific, but also from an economical point of view. Instead of being provided with ready cash, we had received in Múrzuk, on account of the British Government, merchandise which, we had been assured, would not only be safer than money, but would also prove more advantageous for us. In consequence of the heavy extortions to which we were subjected on the road to Aír, and of our long delay in that country, we had been deprived of the small articles which we carried for barter, so that we were entirely thrown upon the merchandise which we had forwarded in advance from Tintéggana; and I for my part, on my arrival in Kanó, had to liquidate a debt of not less than 112,300 kurdí: viz. 55,000 for the carriage of this very merchandise from Tintéggana to Kanó; 8,300 as my share of the presents or passage-money given on the road; 18,000 to Gajére, as hire for the mare and bullock; and 31,000 to a man of the name of Háj el Dáwaki, on account of Abú-Bakr el Wákhshi, for the articles bought from him in Kátsena, in order to satisfy the governor of that place. Besides, I was aware that I had to make a considerable present to the governor of Kanó; and I was most desirous to discharge Mohammed eʾ Túnsi, whom I had discovered to be utterly useless in these countries, and who, besides his insupportable insolence, might bring me into trouble by his inconsiderate and frivolous conduct.

These were material calls upon my encumbered property. On my mind, too, there were claims of a not less serious character; for from my very outset from Europe, I had steadily fixed my eyes upon that eastern branch of the Kwára, or so-called Niger, which Laird, Allen, and Oldfield had navigated for the distance of some eighty miles, and which the former (although he himself did not penetrate further than Fánda) had, with reasons decisive in my eyes, and which could not be overthrown in my opinion by Captain William Allen’s ingenious but fanciful hypothesis, concluded to have no communication whatever with Lake Tsád, but to proceed from another and very different quarter.[26]

I had therefore cherished the hope, that I should be capable of penetrating from Kanó in the direction of Ádamáwa, a country wherein I was sure that the question respecting the course of the river would be decided; but obviously such an undertaking could not be engaged in without pecuniary means, and all therefore depended on my success in selling advantageously the merchandise with which I was provided.

For all these reasons, nothing could be more disagreeable and disheartening to me, though I was not quite unprepared for it, than the information which I received the very evening of my arrival in Kanó, that the price of merchandise such as I had was very low. In the next place, I soon found that Báwu, Mr. Gagliuffi’s agent, whom in compliance with his recommendation we had made also our commissioner, was not to be implicitly relied on. He was the second son of Háj Hát Sáleh, the man so well known from the narrative of Captain Clapperton, towards whom he seems to have behaved with honesty and fairness, and by this means perhaps he had recommended himself to Mr. Gagliuffi; but Báwu was not the right man to be entrusted with discretionary power over the property of a foreign merchant residing at a great distance, and belonging even to another religion, or to be the commissioner for European travellers. Young and ambitious as he was, he had no other object but to insinuate himself into the good graces of the governor at the expense of those who had been foolish enough to trust themselves into his hands. Besides, he had upon his hand a host of younger brothers, who all wanted to “eat.” Though Háj Hát Sáleh seems to have been a respectable man, he must have paid very little attention to the education of his children.

It will scarcely be believed that this man, although he had two camel-loads of goods of mine in his hands, yet left me without a single shell, “ko urí gudá,” for a whole fortnight, so that I was glad to borrow two thousand kurdí—less than an Austrian dollar, from Mohammed eʾ Sfáksi, in order to defray the most necessary expenses of my household.

Besides, this agent urged the absolute necessity of making a considerable present not only to the governor, which I was quite prepared to do, but another of nearly the same value to the ghaladíma or first minister, who happened to be the governor’s brother, and enjoyed quite as much authority and influence. The consequence was that I was obliged to give away the few articles of value in my possession merely for being tolerated and protected. The second day after my arrival, the governor received a message from Mr. Richardson, forwarded from Zínder, intimating that, after he should have received new supplies from the coast, he would not fail to come to Kanó; whereupon he sent me word that I had done very wrong to enter his town without giving him previous information, whereas my countryman had already forwarded a notice that at some future period he was likely to pay him a visit. Besides concluding, from the fact that I was not mentioned at all in that letter, that I was travelling on my own account, he made also greater pretensions with regard to a present.

Being lodged in dark, uncomfortable, and cheerless quarters, which I was forbidden to leave before the governor had seen me, destitute of a single farthing in cash, while I was daily called upon and pestered by my numerous creditors, and laughed at on account of my poverty by an insolent servant, my readers may fancy that my situation in the great far-famed entrepôt of Central Africa, the name of which had excited my imagination for so long a time, was far from agreeable. Partly from anxiety, partly from want of exercise, in the course of a few days I had a very severe attack of fever, which reduced me to a state of great weakness. Fortunately, however, I mustered sufficient strength to avail myself of a summons which called me at length into the presence of the governor, on the 18th of February; and by sacrificing what few things remained to me, I paved the road for my further proceedings, while the degree of exertion which was necessary to undergo the fatigue of the visit carried me over my weakness, and restored me gradually to health. The distances in Kanó, though less than those of London, are very great; and the ceremonies to be gone through are scarcely less tedious than those at any European court.

Clothing myself as warmly as possible in my Tunisian dress, and wearing over it a white tobe and a white bernús, I mounted my poor black nag, and followed my three mediators and advocates. These were Báwu, Elaíji, and Sídi ʿAlí. Elaíji had arrived three days after me from his estate, and had continued to show me the same disinterested friendship which I had experienced from him before. Sídi ʿAlí was the son of Mohammed, the former Sultan of Fezzán, and last of the Welád Mohammed, who was killed by Mukni, the father of Yusuf, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter.

This man, whom it would have been far better for us to have employed as our agent from the beginning, had testified his interest in my welfare by sending me a fat ram as a present, and now accompanied me most kindly, in order to exert his influence in my behalf with the governor. On my second visit to Kanó, on my return from Timbúktu in the latter part of 1854, when I was still more destitute than in 1851, I placed myself directly under his protection, and made him my agent at the moment when the state of my affairs rendered considerable credit desirable.

It was a very fine morning; and the whole scenery of the town in its great variety of clay houses, huts, sheds, green open places affording pasture for oxen, horses, camels, donkeys, and goats, in motley confusion, deep hollows containing ponds overgrown with the water-plant the Pistia stratiotes, or pits freshly dug up in order to form the material for some new buildings, various and most beautiful specimens of the vegetable kingdom, particularly the fine symmetric gónda or papaya, the slender date-palm, the spreading alléluba, and the majestic rími or silk cotton-tree (Bombax)—the people in all varieties of costume, from the naked slave up to the most gaudily dressed Arab,—all formed a most animated and exciting scene. As far as the market-place I had already proceeded on foot; but Báwu, as soon as he saw me, had hurried me back to my lodgings, as having not yet been formally received by the governor. But no one on foot can get a correct idea of an African town, confined as he is on every side by the fences and walls, while on horseback he obtains an insight into all the courtyards, becomes an eye-witness of scenes of private life, and often with one glance surveys a whole town.

Passing through the market-place, which had only begun to collect its crowds, and crossing the narrow neck of land which divides the characteristic pool “Jákara,” we entered the quarters of the ruling race, the Fúlbe or Féllani, where conical huts of thatchwork, and the gónda-tree, are prevalent, and where most beautiful and lively pictures of nature meet the eye on all sides. Thus we proceeded, first to the house of the gadó (the Lord of the Treasury), who had already called several times at my house, and acted as the mediator between me and the governor.

His house was a most interesting specimen of the domestic arrangements of the Fúlbe, who, however civilized they may have become, do not disown their original character as “berroróji,” or nomadic cattle-breeders. His courtyard, though in the middle of the town, looked like a farmyard, and could not be conscientiously commended for its cleanliness. Having with difficulty found a small spot to sit down upon without much danger of soiling our clothes, we had to wait patiently till his Excellency had examined and approved of the presents. Having manifested his satisfaction with them by appropriating to himself a very handsome large gilt cup, which with great risk I had carried safely through the desert, he accompanied us on horseback to the “fáda,” “lamórde,” or palace, which forms a real labyrinth of courtyards, provided with spacious round huts of audience, built of clay, with a door on each side, and connected together by narrow intricate passages. Hundreds of lazy, arrogant courtiers, freemen and slaves, were lounging and idling here, killing time with trivial and saucy jokes.

We were first conducted to the audience-hall of the ghaladíma, who, while living in a separate palace, visits the “fáda” almost every day, in order to act in his important and influential office as vizier; for he is far more intelligent, and also somewhat more energetic, than his lazy and indolent brother ʿOthmán, who allows this excessively wealthy and most beautiful province, “the garden of Central Africa,” to be ransacked with impunity by the predatory incursions of the serkí Ibrám of Zínder, and other petty chiefs. Both are sons of Dábo and Shékara—the latter one of the celebrated ladies of Háusa, a native of Dáura, who is still living, and has three other children, viz. a son (Makhmúd) and two daughters, one of them named Fátima Záhar, and the other Sáretu. The governor was then eight and thirty, the ghaladíma seven and thirty years of age. They were both stout and handsome men, the governor rather too stout and clumsy. Their apartments were so excessively dark that, coming from a sunny place, it was some time before I could distinguish anybody. The governor’s hall was very handsome, and even stately for this country, and was the more imposing as the rafters supporting the very elevated ceiling were concealed, two lofty arches of clay, very neatly polished and ornamented, appearing to support the whole. At the bottom of the apartment were two spacious and highly decorated niches, in one of which the governor was reposing on a “gadó,” spread with a carpet. His dress was not that of a simple Púllo, but consisted of all the mixed finery of Háusa and Barbary; he allowed his face to be seen, the white shawl hanging down far below his mouth over his breast.

In both audiences (as well that with the ghaladíma as with the governor) old Elaíji was the speaker, beginning his speech with a captatio benevolentiæ, founded on the heavy and numerous losses sustained on the road by me and my companions. Altogether he performed his office very well, with the exception that he dwelt longer than was necessary on Overweg’s journey to Marádi, which certainly could not be a very agreeable topic to a ba-Féllanchi. Sídi ʿAlí also displayed his eloquence in a very fair way. The ghaladíma made some intelligent observations, while the governor only observed that, though I had suffered so severely from extortion, yet I seemed to have still ample presents for him. Nor was he far wrong; for the black “kabá” (a sort of bernús, with silk and gold lace, which I gave him) was a very handsome garment, and here worth sixty thousand kurdí: besides, he got a red cap, a white shawl with red border, a piece of white muslin, rose oil, one pound of cloves, and another of jáwi or benzoin, razor, scissors, an English clasp-knife, and a large mirror of German silver. The ghaladíma got the same presents, except that, instead of the kabá, I gave him a piece of French striped silk worth fifty thousand kurdí.

However, our audience did not go off so fast as I relate it, for, after being dismissed by the ghaladíma, we were obliged to wait full two hours before we could see the governor; yet although we returned to our quarters during the very hottest hour of the day, I felt much better, and in the evening was able to finish a whole chicken, and to enjoy a cup of Cyprian wine, for which I felt very grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Crowe, who had supplied me with this cheering luxury.

Having now at length made my peace with the governor, and seeing that exercise of body and recreation of mind were the best medicines I could resort to, I mounted on horseback the next day again, and, guided by a lad well acquainted with the topography of the town, rode for several hours round all the inhabited quarters, enjoying at my leisure, from the saddle, the manifold scenes of public and private life, of comfort and happiness, of luxury and misery, of activity and laziness, of industry and indolence, which were exhibited in the streets, the market-places, and in the interior of the courtyards. It was the most animated picture of a little world in itself, so different in external form from all that is seen in European towns, yet so similar in its internal principles.

Here a row of shops filled with articles of native and foreign produce, with buyers and sellers in every variety of figure, complexion, and dress, yet all intent upon their little gain, endeavouring to cheat each other; there a large shed, like a hurdle, full of half-naked, half-starved slaves torn from their native homes, from their wives or husbands, from their children or parents, arranged in rows like cattle, and staring desperately upon the buyers, anxiously watching into whose hands it should be their destiny to fall. In another part were to be seen all the necessaries of life, the wealthy buying the most palatable things for his table, the poor stopping and looking greedily upon a handful of grain; here a rich governor dressed in silk and gaudy clothes, mounted upon a spirited and richly caparisoned horse, and followed by a host of idle, insolent slaves; there a poor blind man groping his way through the multitude, and fearing at every step to be trodden down; here a yard neatly fenced with mats of reed, and provided with all the comforts which the country affords—a clean, snug-looking cottage, the clay walls nicely polished, a shutter of reeds placed against the low, well-rounded door, and forbidding intrusion on the privacy of life, a cool shed for the daily household work,—a fine spreading alléluba-tree, affording a pleasant shade during the hottest hours of the day, or a beautiful gónda or papaya unfolding its large feather-like leaves above a slender, smooth, and undivided stem, or the tall date-tree, waving over the whole scene; the matron in a clean black cotton gown wound round her waist, her hair neatly dressed in “chókoli” or bejáji, busy preparing the meal for her absent husband, or spinning cotton, and at the same time urging the female slaves to pound the corn; the children naked and merry, playing about in the sand at the “urgi-n-dáwaki” or the “da-n-chácha,” or chasing a straggling stubborn goat; earthenware pots and wooden bowls, all cleanly washed, standing in order. Further on a dashing Cyprian, homeless, comfortless, and childless, but affecting merriment or forcing a wanton laugh, gaudily ornamented with numerous strings of beads around her neck, her hair fancifully dressed and bound with a diadem, her gown of various colours loosely fastened under her luxuriant breast, and trailing behind in the sand; near her a diseased wretch covered with ulcers, or with elephantiasis.

Now a busy “máriná,” an open terrace of clay, with a number of dyeing-pots, and people busily employed in various processes of their handicraft; here a man stirring the juice, and mixing with the indigo some colouring wood in order to give it the desired tint; there another, drawing a shirt from the dye-pot, or hanging it upon a rope fastened to the trees; there two men beating a well-dyed shirt, singing the while, and keeping good time; further on, a blacksmith busy with his rude tools in making a dagger which will surprise, by the sharpness of its blade, those who feel disposed to laugh at the workman’s instruments, a formidable barbed spear, or the more estimable and useful instruments of husbandry; in another place, men and women making use of an ill-frequented thoroughfare, as a “kaudi tseggenábe,” to hang up, along the fences, their cotton thread for weaving; close by, a group of indolent loiterers lying in the sun and idling away their hours.

Here a caravan from Gónja arriving with the desired kola-nut, chewed by all who have “ten kurdí” to spare from their necessary wants, or a caravan laden with natron, starting for Núpe, or a troop of Asbenáwa going off with their salt for the neighbouring towns, or some Arabs leading their camels, heavily laden with the luxuries of the north and east (the “káya-n-ghábbes”) to the quarter of the Ghadamsíye; there, a troop of gaudy, warlike-looking horsemen galloping towards the palace of the governor to bring him the news of a new inroad of serkí Ibrám. Everywhere human life in its varied forms, the most cheerful and the most gloomy, seem closely mixed together; every variety of national form and complexion—the olive-coloured Arab, the dark Kanúri, with his wide nostrils, the small-featured, light, and slender ba-Féllanchi, the broad-faced ba-Wángara (Mandingo), the stout, large-boned, and masculine-looking Núpe female, the well-proportioned and comely ba-Háushe woman.

Delighted with my trip, and deeply impressed by the many curious and interesting scenes which had presented themselves to my eyes, I returned by way of the “úngwa-n-makáfi,” or “belád el amiyán” (the village of the blind), to my quarters, the gloominess and cheerlessness of which made the more painful impression upon me from its contrast with the brightly animated picture which I had just before enjoyed. The next day I made another long ride through the town; and being tolerably well acquainted with the topography of the place and its different quarters, I enjoyed still more the charming view obtained from the top of the Dalá.

I had just descended from the eminence beneath which spread this glorious panorama, when I heard a well-known voice calling me by my name; it was ʿAbdallah the Tawáti, my friend and teacher in Ágades, who, after residing some time in Tasáwa, had come to try his fortune in this larger sphere of action. I had besides him some other acquaintances, who gave me much interesting information, particularly a young ba-Háushe lad of the name of Íbrahíma, who gave me the first tolerably correct idea of the road to Yóla, the capital of Adamáwa, although he was puzzled about the direction of the Great River, which he had crossed, supposing that it flowed eastward instead of westward. I derived also a great deal of information from a less agreeable man named Mohammed, with the surname “el Merábet” (reclaimed), rather antithetically, as “lucus à non lucendo,” for he was the most profligate drunkard imaginable, and eventually remained indebted to me for several thousand cowries.

I was much worried during my stay in Kanó by a son of the governor of Zária, who, suffering dreadfully from stricture or some other obstruction, had come expressly to Kanó in the hope of being relieved by me; and it was impossible for me to convince him that I had neither the knowledge nor the instruments necessary for effecting the cure of his disease. It would, no doubt, have been of great service if I had been able to cure him, as he was the son of one of the most powerful princes of Negroland; but as it was, I could only afford him a little temporary relief. My intercourse with this man was indeed most painful to me, as I felt conscious of entire inability to help him, while he conjured me, by all that was dear to me, not to give him up and abandon him. He died shortly afterwards. More agreeable to me was a visit from the eldest son of the governor of Kanó, who, accompanied by two horsemen, came to call upon me one day, and not finding me at home, traced me whither I had gone, and having met me, followed silently till I had re-entered my quarters. He was a handsome, modest, and intelligent youth of about eighteen years of age, and was delighted with the performance of my musical-box. I gave him an English clasp-knife, and we parted the best of friends, greatly pleased with each other.

I had considerable difficulty in arranging my pecuniary affairs, and felt really ashamed at being unable to pay my debt to the Háj el Dáwaki till after el Wákhshi himself had arrived from Kátsena. After having sold, with difficulty, all that I possessed, having suffered a very heavy loss by Báwu’s dishonesty, paid my debts, and arranged my business with Mohammed el Túnsi, who, suffering under a very severe attack of fever, wanted most eagerly to return home, I should scarcely have been able to make the necessary preparations for my journey to Bórnu if the governor had not assisted me a little. He had hitherto behaved very shabbily towards me, not a single dish, not a sheep or other token of his hospitality having been sent me during my stay in the town. I was therefore most agreeably surprised when, on the morning of the 2nd of March, old Elaíji came and announced to me that, in consequence of his urgent remonstrances, the governor had sent me a present of sixty thousand kurdí. He told me, with a sort of pride, that he had severely reprimanded him, assuring him that he was the only prince who had not honoured me. I should have been better pleased if the governor had sent me a pair of camels or a horse; but I was thankful for this unexpected supply, and giving six thousand to the officer who had brought the money, and as much to Elaíji, and dividing eight thousand between Báwu and Sídi ʿAlí, I kept forty thousand for myself.

With this present I was fortunately enabled to buy two camels instead of sumpter-oxen, which give great trouble on the road during the dry season, especially if not properly attended to, and prepared everything for my journey; but the people in these countries are all cowards, and as I was to go alone without a caravan, I was unable to find a good servant. Thus I had only my faithful Tébu lad Mohammed whom I could rely upon, having besides him none but a debauched young Fezzáni, Makhmúd, who had long lived in this town, and a youth named ʿAbdallah. Nevertheless I felt not a moment’s hesitation, but, on the contrary, impatiently awaited the moment when I should leave my dingy and melancholy quarters, full of mice and vermin.

I had hoped to get off on the 6th; but nothing was heard from the governor, and it would have been imprudent to start without his permission. With envious feelings I witnessed the departure of the natron caravan for Núpe or Nýffi, consisting of from two to three hundred asses. With it went Mohammed Ánnur, a very intelligent man, whom I had endeavoured by all possible means to hire as a servant, but could not muster shells enough. However, the exploration of all those more distant regions I was obliged in my present circumstances to give up, and to concentrate my whole energies on the effort to reach Kúkawa, where I had concerted with Mr. Richardson to arrive in the beginning of April. I had had the satisfaction of sending off a long report and several letters to Europe on the 1st of March (when the Ghadamsíye merchants despatched a courier to their native town), and felt therefore much easier with regard to my communication with Europe. My delay also had given me the great advantage of making the acquaintance of a man named Mohammed el ʿAnáya, from the Dʿara el Takhtaníye, to the south of Morocco, who first gave me some general information about the route from Timbúktu to Sókoto, which in the sequel was to become a new field for my researches and adventures.

I became so seriously ill on the 8th, that I looked forward with apprehension to my departure, which was fixed for the following day. But before leaving this important place, I will make a few general observations with regard to its history and its present state.

The town of Kanó, considered as the capital of a province, must be of somewhat older date than Kátsena, if we are to rely on Leo’s accuracy, though from other more reliable sources (which I shall bring to light in the chapter on the history of Bórnu) it is evident that even in the second half of the sixteenth century there could have been here only the fortress of Dalá, which, at that period, withstood the attacks of the Bórnu king. I think we are justified in supposing that, in this respect, Leo (when, after an interval of many years, he wrote the account of the countries of Negroland which he had visited) confounded Kanó with Kátsena. The strength of the Kanáwa, that is to say, the inhabitants of the province of Kanó, at the time of the Bórnu king Edrís Alawóma, is quite apparent from the report of his imám; but from that time forth the country seems to have been tributary to Bórnu; and the population of the town of Kanó is said, with good reason, to have consisted from the beginning mostly of Kanúri or Bórnu elements. However, the established allegiance or subjection of this province to Bórnu was evidently rather precarious, and could be maintained only with a strong hand; for there was a powerful neighbour, the King of Korórofa or Júku, ready to avail himself of every opportunity of extending his own power and dominion over that territory. We know also that one king of that country, whose name, however, I could not obtain, on the entry of a new governor into office in Kanó, made an expedition into that country, and installed his own representative in the place of that of Bórnu, and though the eastern provinces of Korórofa itself (I mean the district inhabited by the Koána or Kwána) became afterwards tributary to Bórnu, yet the main province (or Júku proper) with the capital Wukári, seems to have always remained strong and independent, till now, at length, it seems destined to be gradually swallowed up by the Fúlbe, if the English do not interfere. But to return to our subject. As long as Kátsena continued independent and flourishing, the town of Kanó appears never to have been an important commercial place; and it was not till after Kátsena had been occupied by the Fúlbe, and, owing to its exposed position on the northern frontier of Háusa, had become a very unsafe central point for commercial transactions, that Kanó became the great commercial entrepôt of Central Negroland. Before this time, that is to say, before the year 1807, I have strong reason to suppose that scarcely any great Arab merchant ever visited Kanó, a place which nevertheless continues till this very day to be identified with Ghána or Ghánata, a state or town expressly stated by Arab writers of the eleventh century to have been the rendezvous for Arab merchants from the very first rise of commercial connections with Negroland. And all regard to historical or geographical facts is put aside merely from an absurd identification of two entirely distinct names such as Kanó and Ghána or Ghánata.

As to the period when the Kánawa in general became Mohammedans, we may fairly assume it to have been several years later than the time when Máji, the prince of Kátsena, embraced Islám, or about the seventeenth century, though it is evident that the larger portion of the population all over Háusa, especially that of the country towns and villages, remained addicted to paganism till the fanatic zeal of their conquerors the Fúlbe forced them to profess Islám, at least publicly. Nevertheless even at the present day there is a great deal of paganism cherished, and rites really pagan performed, in the province of Kanó as well as in that of Kátsena,—a subject on which I shall say something more on another occasion.

With regard to the growth of the town, we have express testimony that Dalá was the most ancient quarter. The steep rocky hill, about 120 feet high, naturally afforded a secure retreat to the ancient inhabitants in case of sudden attack; but it is most probable that there was another or several separate villages within the wide expanse now encompassed by the wall, which rather exceeds than falls short of fifteen English miles, and it seems inconceivable why the other hill, “Kógo-n-dútsi” (which is enclosed within the circumference of the walls), though it is not quite so well fortified by nature, should not have afforded a strong site for another hamlet. We have, indeed, no means of describing the way in which the town gradually increased to its present size; this much, however, is evident, that the inhabited quarters never filled up the immense space comprised within the walls, though it is curious to observe that there are evident traces of a more ancient wall on the south side, which, as will be seen from the plan, did not describe so wide a circumference, particularly towards the south-west, where the great projecting angle seems to have been added in later times, for merely strategical purposes. The reason why the fortifications were carried to so much greater extent than the population of the town rendered necessary, was evidently to make the place capable of sustaining a long siege (sufficient ground being enclosed within the walls to produce the necessary supply of corn for the inhabitants), and also to receive the population of the open and unprotected villages in the neighbourhood. The inhabited quarter occupies at present only the south-eastern part of the town between Mount Dalá and the wall, which on this side is closely approached by the dwellings.

On the northern margin of the Jákara is the market-place, forming a large quadrangle, mostly consisting of sheds built in regular rows like streets; but the westernmost part of it forms the slaughtering-place, where numbers of cattle are daily butchered, causing an immense quantity of offal and filth to accumulate, for which there is no other outlet than the all-swallowing Jákara. It is the accumulation of this filth in the most frequented parts of the town which makes it so unhealthy. On the north-east side of the sheds is the camel-market, where also pack-oxen are sold. The shed where the slaves are sold is at the north-west corner; and thence, along the principal street, which traverses the market, is the station of the people who sell firewood. The market is generally immensely crowded during the heat of the day, and offers a most interesting scene.

The wall, just as it has been described by Captain Clapperton, is still kept in the best repair, and is an imposing piece of workmanship in this quarter of the world. This wall, with its gates, I have not been able to lay down with much exactness; but, from my observations on my later visit in 1854, being aware of the great inaccuracy of the little sketch of the town given by Clapperton, who himself pretends only to give an eye-sketch, I thought it worth while, with regard to a place like Kanó (which certainly will at some future period become important even for the commercial world of Europe), to survey and sketch it more minutely; and I hope my plan, together with the view taken from Mount Dalá of the southern and really inhabited quarter of the town, will give a tolerably correct idea of its character.

The market-place is necessarily much less frequented during the rainy season, when most of the people are busy with the labours of the field. A great part of the market-place during that time is even inundated by the waters of the pond Jákara.

I now proceed to enumerate the quarters, the names of which are not without their interest. I must first observe, that the quarters to the north of the great and characteristic pond Jákara, which intersects the town from east to west, are chiefly inhabited by Háusa people, or, as they are called by their conquerors, “Hábe,” from the singular “Kádo,” while the southern quarters are chiefly, but not at all exclusively, inhabited by the Fúlbe (sing. Púllo), called Féllani (sing. ba-Féllanchi) by the conquered race.

Beginning with Dalá, the oldest quarter of the town, and which in commercial respects is the most important one, as it is the residence of almost all the wealthy Arab and Berber (principally Ghadamsíye) merchants, I shall first proceed eastwards, then return by south to west, and so on. East-south-east, the quarter called Déndalin (the esplanade) borders on Dalá, then Kutumbáwa, Gérke, Mádabó, Ya-n-tándu, Adakáwa, Kóki, Zéta, Límanchí (or the quarter of the people of Tóto, a considerable town not far from Fánda); south from the latter, Yandówea, and thence, returning westward, Jibdji-n-Yél-labu, another Límanchí (with a large mosque), Masu-kiyáni (the quarter near the “kaswa” or market-place), Túddu-n-mákera (the quarter of the blacksmiths) on the west side of the market, Yámroché, “Marárraba bókoy” (the seven crossways), “Báki-n-rúa” (the waterside—that is, the quay along the Jákara, not very neat nor fragrant, and in this respect deserving to be compared, with the quays of the Thames, which may be called, just with the same reason, the great sink of London, as the Jákara is that of Kanó, the difference being only that the Thames is a running stream, while the Jákara is stagnant), “Runfáwa” (the quarter of the sheds), Yéllwá. Here, turning again eastwards, we come first to the quarter Ríma-n-jirájiré, then enter Mággoga, then Maggógi, Ungwa-n-kári, Déndali-n-Wáre, Límanchí (a third quarter of this name), Dukkuráwa, Rúffogí, Dérma. All these are quarters of the Hábe, where no Púllo, as far as I am aware, would deign to live. Beyond the Jákara we now come to the quarters of the ruling race, proceeding from west to east.

Yaálewa, Mármara, Ágadesáwa (a quarter belonging originally to the natives of Ágades), Yóla—the princely quarter of the town, and called on this account “mádaki-n-Kanó.” It is interesting also as having given its name to the new capital of Ádamáwa (the natives of Negroland being not less anxious than Europeans to familiarize the new regions which they colonize by names taken from their ancient homes); el Kántara (so called from a rough kind of bridge, or kadárko, thrown over one of those numerous pools which intersect the town), Wuaitákka, Go-shérifé-dodó (a quarter, the name of which is taken from the ancient pagan worship of the “dodó),” Tókobá, Dukkáwa, Zaghidámse, Sháfushí. Returning from east to west we have the quarters Shérbalé, Mádaté, Kúrna, Sheshé, “Dirmí (or dírremi)-kay okú” (called from a tree of the dírremi species, with three separate crowns), Lelóki-n-lemú, Kóllwá al héndeki, Sóra-n-dínki, Rími-n-kóro, Tojí, Yárkasá, Mándáwari, Mármara (different from the quarter mentioned above), Dantúrku, Sabansára, Kudedefáwa, Jingo, Doséyi, Warúre, Gʿao (an interesting name, identical with that of the capital of the Sónghay empire), Kurmáwa, Háusáwa, Ungwa Mákama, Ghaladánchi (the quarter wherein resides the ghaladíma), Shúramchí (the quarter where lives the eldest son of the governor, whose title chiróma—a Kanúri name—in the corrupted form of “shúromo” has furnished the name of the quarter), Ye-serkí, Kurmáwa (not identical with the above), “Kusseráwa” (the corner), Udeláwa. South from the palace of the governor, Rími-n-kerá, Káraká, Dugeráwa, Yákase, Naseráwa (most probably destined to be hereafter the quarter of the Nasára or Christians), and ʿAbdeláwa.

All over the town, clay houses and huts, with thatched conical roofs, are mixed together; but generally in the southern quarter the latter prevail. The clay houses, as far as I have seen them in Dalá, where of course Arab influence predominates, are built in a most uncomfortable style, with no other purpose than that of obtaining the greatest possible privacy for domestic life, without any attempt to provide for the influx of fresh air and light, although I must admit that a few houses are built in somewhat better taste; but invariably the courtyard is extremely small, and in this respect the houses of Kanó are very inferior to those of Ágades and Timbúktu, which are built almost on the same principle as the dwellings of the ancient Greeks and Romans. I here give the ground plan of the house in which I lodged in 1851.

Almost all these houses have also a very irregular upper story on a different level, and very badly aired. Many of the Arabs sleep on their terraces.

In estimating the population of the town at 30,000, I am certainly not above the truth. Captain Clapperton estimated it at from 30,000 to 40,000. The population, as might be expected in a place of great commercial resort, is of a rather mixed nature; but the chief elements in it are Kanúri or Bórnu people, Háusáwa, Fúlbe or Féllani, and Nyffáwa or Núpe; a good many Arabs also reside there, who by their commerce and their handicraft contribute a great deal to the importance of the place. The influx of foreigners and temporary residents is occasionally very great, so that the whole number of residents during the most busy time of the year (that is to say from January to April) may often amount to 60,000. The number of domestic slaves, of course, is very considerable; but I think it hardly equals, certainly does not exceed, that of the free men, for while the wealthy have many slaves, the poorer class, which is far more numerous, have few or none. It would be very interesting to arrive at an exact estimate of the numbers of the conquering nation, in order to see the proportion in which they stand to the conquered. As for the town itself, their whole number, of every sex and age, does not, in my opinion, exceed 4,000; but with regard to the whole country I can give no opinion.

The principal commerce of Kanó consists in native produce, namely, the cotton cloth woven and dyed here or in the neighbouring towns, in the form of tobes or rígona (sing. ríga); túrkedí, or the oblong pieces of dress of dark-blue colour worn by the women; the zénne[27] or plaid of various colours; and the ráwani bakí, or black lithám.

The great advantage of Kanó is, that commerce and manufactures go hand in hand, and that almost every family has its share in them. There is really something grand in this kind of industry, which spreads to the north as far as Múrzuk, Ghát, and even Tripoli; to the west, not only to Timbúktu, but in some degree even as far as the shores of the Atlantic, the very inhabitants of Arguin dressing in the cloth woven and dyed in Kanó; to the east, all over Bórnu, although there it comes in contact with the native industry of the country; and to the south it maintains a rivalry with the native industry of the Ígbira and Ígbo, while towards the south-east it invades the whole of Ádamáwa, and is only limited by the nakedness of the pagan sans-culottes, who do not wear clothing.

As for the supply sent to Timbúktu, this is a fact entirely overlooked in Europe, where people speak continually of the fine cotton cloth produced in that town, while in truth all the apparel of a decent character in Timbúktu is brought either from Kanó or from Sansándi; and how urgently this article is there demanded is amply shown by the immense circuit which the merchandise makes to avoid the great dangers of the direct road from Kanó to Timbúktu travelled by me, the merchandise of Kanó being first carried up to Ghát and even Ghadámes, and thence taking its way to Timbúktu by Tawát.

I make the lowest estimate in rating this export to Timbúktu alone at three hundred camel-loads annually, worth sixty million kurdí in Kanó—an amount which entirely remains in the country, and redounds to the benefit of the whole population, both cotton and indigo being produced and prepared in the country. In taking a general view of the subject, I think myself justified in estimating the whole produce of this manufacture, as far as it is sold abroad, at the very least at about three hundred millions; and how great this national wealth is, will be understood by my readers when they know that, with from fifty to sixty thousand kurdí, or from four to five pounds sterling a year, a whole family may live in that country with ease, including every expense, even that of their clothing: and we must remember that the province is one of the most fertile spots on the earth, and is able to produce not only the supply of corn necessary for its population, but can also export, and that it possesses, besides, the finest pasture-grounds. In fact, if we consider that this industry is not carried on here, as in Europe, in immense establishments, degrading man to the meanest condition of life, but that it gives employment and support to families without compelling them to sacrifice their domestic habits, we must presume that Kanó ought to be one of the happiest countries in the world; and so it is as long as its governor, too often lazy and indolent, is able to defend its inhabitants from the cupidity of their neighbours, which of course is constantly stimulated by the very wealth of this country.

Besides the cloth produced and dyed in Kanó and in the neighbouring villages, there is a considerable commerce carried on here with the cloth manufactured in Nýffi or Núpe, which, however, extends only to the first and the third of the articles above mentioned, viz. the “ríga,” or shirt worn by men, and the “zénne,” or plaid; for the Nyffáwa are unable to produce either túrkedí or ráwaní—at least for export, while they seem, with the exception of the wealthier classes, to supply their own wants themselves. The tobes brought from Nýffi are either large black ones, or of mixed silk and cotton.

With regard to the former, which are called “gíwa” (the elephant’s shirt), I am unable to say why the Kanáwa are not capable of manufacturing them themselves; but it seems that, while they thoroughly understand how to impart the most beautiful dye to the túrkedí, they are unable to apply the same to the ríga—I do not know why.

Of the latter kind there are several varieties: the ríga sáki, the small squares blue and white, as if speckled, and therefore called by the Arabs “fílfil” (pepper), and by the Tuarek, who, as I have mentioned, esteem it more than any other kind, the “Guinea-fowl shirt” (tekátkat taílelt), as shown in the woodcut on page 301, is very becoming, and was my ordinary dress from the moment I was rich enough to purchase it, as a good one fetches as much as from eighteen to twenty thousand kurdí; then the tob-harír, with stripes of speckled cast like the taílelt, but intermixed with red; the jellába, red and white, with embroidery of green silk, and several others. Specimens of all these I have brought home and delivered to the Foreign Office.[28]

The chief articles of native industry, besides cloth, which have a wide market, are principally sandals. The sandals are made with great neatness, and, like the cloth, are exported to an immense distance; but being a cheap article (the very best, which are called “táka-sárakí,” fetching only two hundred kurdí), they bear of course no comparison in importance with the former. I estimate this branch at ten millions. It is very curious that the shoes made here by Arab shoemakers, of Sudán leather, and called “bélghʿa,” are exported in great quantities to North Africa. The “nesísa,” or twisted leather strap, is a celebrated article of Kanó manufacture, and “jebíras,” richly ornamented, as the woodcut on page 303 shows, are made by Arab workmen.

The other leather-work I will not mention here, as it does not form a great article of commerce; but tanned hides (“kulábu”) and red sheepskins, dyed with a juice extracted from the stalks of the holcus, are not unimportant, being sent in great quantities even as far as Tripoli. I value the amount of export at about five millions.[29]

Besides these manufactures, the chief article of African produce in the Kanó market is the “gúro,” or kola-nut: but while on the one hand it forms an important article of transit, and brings considerable profit, on the other large sums are expended by the natives upon this luxury, which has become to them as necessary as tea or coffee to us. On another occasion I shall enumerate the different kinds of this nut, and the seasons when it is collected. The import of this nut into Kanó, comprising certainly more than five hundred ass-loads every year, the load of each, if safely brought to the market—for it is a very delicate article, and very liable to spoil—being sold for about two hundred thousand kurdí, will amount to an average of from eighty to one hundred millions. Of this sum, I think we shall be correct in asserting about half to be paid for by the natives of the province, while the other half will be profit.

But we must bear in mind that the greater part of the persons employed in this trade are Kanáwa, and that therefore they and their families subsist upon this branch of trade.

A very important branch of the native commerce in Kanó is certainly the slave-trade; but it is extremely difficult to say how many of these unfortunate creatures are exported, as a greater number are carried away by small caravans to Bórnu and Núpe than on the direct road to Ghát and Fezzán. Altogether, I do not think that the number of slaves annually exported from Kanó exceeds five thousand; but of course a considerable number are sold into domestic slavery either to the inhabitants of the province itself, or to those of the adjoining districts. The value of this trade, of which only a small percentage falls to the profit of the Kanáwa, besides the tax which is levied in the market, may altogether amount to from a hundred and fifty to two hundred millions of kurdí per annum.

Another important branch of the commerce of Kanó is the transit of natron from Bórnu to Núpe or Nýffi, which here always passes into other hands, and in so doing leaves a considerable profit in the place. The merchandise is very cheap; but the quantity is great, and it employs a great many persons, as I shall have ample occasion to illustrate in the course of my proceedings. Twenty thousand loads, at the very least, between pack-oxen, sumpter-horses, and asses, of natron must annually pass through the market of Kanó; which, at five hundred kurdí per load, merely for passage-money, would give ten millions of kurdí.

I here also mention the salt-trade, which is entirely an import one, the salt being almost all consumed in the province. Of the three thousand camel-loads of salt which I have above computed as comprising the aïri with which I reached Kátsena, we may suppose one-third to be sold in the province of Kanó; and therefore that hereby a value of from fifty to eighty millions annually is drained from the country. But we must not forget that the money which is paid for this requisite (and not only for that consumed in Kanó, but also in other provinces) is entirely laid out by the sellers in buying the produce of Kanó; viz. cloth and corn. Here, therefore, is an absolute balance—a real exchange of necessaries and wants.

As for ivory, at present it does not form a very important branch of the commerce of Kanó; and I scarcely believe that more than one hundred kantárs pass through this place. The lowest price of the kantár is in general thirty dollars, or seventy-five thousand kurdí; but it often rises to forty dollars, or one hundred thousand kurdí, and even more, though I have seen it bought with ready money for twenty-five dollars.

Of European goods the greatest proportion is still imported by the northern road, while the natural road, by way of the great eastern branch of the so-called Niger, will and must, in the course of events, be soon opened.

But I must here speak about a point of very great importance for the English, both as regards their honour and their commercial activity. The final opening of the lower course of the Kwára has been one of the most glorious achievements of English discovery, bought with the lives of so many enterprising men. But it seems that the English are more apt to perform a great deed than to follow up its consequences. After they have opened this noble river to the knowledge of Europe, frightened by the sacrifice of a few lives, instead of using it themselves for the benefit of the nations of the interior, they have allowed it to fall into the hands of the American slave-dealers, who have opened a regular annual slave-trade with those very regions, while the English seem not to have even the slightest idea of such a traffic going on. Thus American produce, brought in large quantities to the market of Núpe, has begun to inundate Central Africa, to the great damage of the commerce and the most unqualified scandal of the Arabs, who think that the English, if they would, could easily prevent it. For this is not a legitimate commerce; it is nothing but slave-traffic on a large scale, the Americans taking nothing in return for their merchandise and their dollars but slaves, besides a small quantity of natron. On this painful subject I have written repeatedly to H.M.’s consul in Tripoli, and to H.M.’s Government, and I have spoken energetically about it to Lord Palmerston since my return. I principally regret in this respect the death of Mr. Richardson, who, in his eloquent language, would have dealt worthily with this question. But even from his unfinished journals as they have been published, it is clear that during his short stay in the country before he was doomed to succumb, he became well aware of what was going on.[30]

The principal European goods brought to the market of Kanó are bleached and unbleached calicoes, and cotton prints from Manchester; French silks and sugar; red cloth from Saxony and other parts of Europe; beads from Venice and Trieste; a very coarse kind of silk from Trieste; common paper with the sign of three moons, looking-glasses, needles, and small ware, from Nuremberg; sword blades from Solingen; razors from Styria. It is very remarkable that so little English merchandise is seen in this great emporium of Negroland, which lies so near to the two branches of “the Great River” of Western Africa, calico and muslins (or tanjips, as they are called by the merchants) being almost the only English articles. Calico certainly is not the thing most wanted in a country where home-made cloth is produced at so cheap a rate, and of so excellent a quality; indeed the unbleached calico has a very poor chance in Kanó, while the bleached calico and the cambric attract the wealthier people on account of their nobler appearance. In Timbúktu on the contrary, where the native cloth is dearer, unbleached calico is in request; and it would be so in an extraordinary degree, if it were dyed dark blue. It is very interesting to observe that a small proportion of the calico imported into Kanó is again exported, after having been dyed, returning even the long way to Ghadámes. I estimate the whole amount of Manchester goods imported into Kanó at about forty millions; but it may be somewhat more. The sale of tanjips is very considerable; and the import of this article into Kanó certainly equals in value that of the former.

The very coarse silk, or rather refuse, which is dyed in Tripoli, is imported to a very considerable amount, this forming the principal merchandise of most of the caravans of the Ghadamsíye merchants, and about one-third of their whole commerce, amounting certainly to not less than from three to four hundred camel-loads annually, worth in Kanó each about two hundred thousand kurdí; this would give a value of about seventy millions imported. But according to some well-informed people, even as many as one thousand loads of this article pass annually through Ghadámes; so that, if we take into consideration that the supply of the northerly markets (as Tasáwa, Zínder) may well be compensated by what is brought by way of Múrzuk, the value of the import of this article into Kanó may be much more. A great deal of this silk, I have no doubt by far the greatest part, remains in the country, being used for ornamenting the tobes, sandals, shoes, and other things.

Woollen cloth of the most ordinary quality, chiefly red, but about one-third of the whole amount of green colour, was formerly imported to a great extent; but it has gone out of fashion, and I think a better quality, like that with which the market of Timbúktu is supplied by way of Mogador or Swaira, would succeed. I estimate this branch at present at only fifteen millions.

Beads, in very great variety,[31] form an important article of import; but the price has become so low of late years that there has been very little profit, and the supply has been kept back to raise the prices. The import of this article certainly amounts to more than fifty millions of kurdí, of which sum the value of twenty may remain in the country.

Of sugar, I think about one hundred camel-loads are imported every year, each containing eighty small loaves, of two and a half pounds each, which are sold in general at fifteen hundred kurdí; so that the import of this article would amount to about twelve millions. It is very remarkable that in all Central Negroland the large English sugar-loaf is scarcely ever seen, while it is the only one seen in Timbúktu. However, I was greatly surprised when, on my return from that place in 1854, ʿAlíyu, the Emír el Mumenín of Sókoto, presented to me an English loaf of sugar; and I heard that he had received several of them as presents from a merchant of Tawát. The small loaf has certainly a great advantage in such a country, where money is scarce; and I found in 1854 that its weight had even been reduced to two pounds.

Common paper, called on the coast “tre lune,” from the mark of three moons which it bears, is imported in great quantity, being used for wrapping up the country cloth; but it is a bulky, heavy article, and in larger quantities is sold at a very cheap rate. The whole amount of this import may be about five millions of kurdí.

Needles, with the emblem of the pig,[32] and small looking-glasses called “lemmʿa” in boxes, form important but very cheap articles, and I think their amount together will not much exceed the value of eight millions. Generally, the needles in large quantities are sold for one “urí” or shell each, but often even cheaper; and I was obliged to sell a thousand for six hundred kurdí. Also, fine needles for silk-work are in request, but only in small quantity, while large darning-needles are not at all wanted here, where the cotton cloth is fine, but are the most profitable thing in Eastern Negroland, from Bagírmi inclusive to Abyssinia.

Sword-blades, which are set here, are imported in considerable quantity; as not only the Kél-owí and the neighbouring Tárki tribes, but also the Háusáwa, Fúlbe, Nyffáwa, and Kanúri or Bórnu people, are supplied from this market. Fifty thousand may be the general annual amount of this article, which produces (the blade being reckoned at one thousand kurdí) fifty millions. Almost all of them that I saw, not only here, but even among the Tuarek near Timbúktu, were from Solingen. Only a small proportion of the import remains in the country; but the setting of the blades, which are again exported, secures a great profit to the natives.

Very few firearms, as far as I became aware, are imported into this market, although common muskets have begun to be imported by way of Nýffi at extraordinarily cheap prices by the Americans. Pistols and blunderbusses are privately sold by the merchants to princes or great men.

The common razors made in Styria, with black, wooden handles, bad as they are, are very much liked by the inhabitants, who know how to sharpen them most beautifully, and strengthen the wretched handle with a guard of copper. I had a tolerable supply of English razors, and found that those bought for sixpence at home would sell profitably, but that nobody would give, for a good razor, though ever so excellent, more than one thousand kurdí; however, the better sort are very fit for presents to men of importance, who know well their value. In any case the handles ought to be strong, and not likely to break. This commodity does certainly not much exceed two or three millions.

French silks, called “hattáya,” were formerly in great request, but at present seem to be a little out of vogue; and most of what is imported here is exported again by second-hand buyers to Yóruba and Gónja. The amount of this import into the Kanó market, I think, does not exceed twenty millions.

An important branch of import is formed by articles of Arab dress, chiefly bernúses, caftans, sedríyas, trousers, red caps, red sashes, shawls. It is difficult to state, even approximately, the value of these articles; but it cannot certainly be much less than fifty millions altogether. The sort of dress most in request comes from Tunis, but a good deal also from Egypt; and from the latter country come all the white shawls with red borders, called “subéta” in Arabic, “aliyáfu” in Háusa, and very much liked by the negroes as well as by the Tuarek. The import of this article alone exceeds the value of ten millions. The common articles of dress, of coarser workmanship, are made in Tripoli. Red caps of very coarse description are now imported from Leghorn, and find a sale, but are not liked by the free people.

Frankincense and spices—principally jáwi, benzoin, the resin obtained from a species of styrax, “símbil” or Valeriana Celtica, and cloves—form a not inconsiderable article of import, perhaps amounting to fifteen millions. However, I exclude from this sum the value of the rose oil which is annually imported in considerable quantity, and being a dear article, forms also an important one; but very little of it comes into the general trade, almost all of it being disposed of privately to the princes and great men, or given to them in presents. I am inclined to estimate the value of this article imported at about forty millions. Tin and many other smaller articles may together be estimated at ten millions.

In the trade of Kanó there is another very interesting article, which tends to unite very distant regions of Africa; this is copper—“ja-n-kárfi.” A good deal of old copper—say fifty loads, together with about twenty loads of zinc—is imported from Tripoli; but a considerable supply of this useful and handsome metal is also imported every year by the Jellába of Nímro in Wadáy, who bring it from the celebrated copper-mine, “el hófra,” situate to the south of Dar-Fúr, of which I shall have occasion to speak later.[33] I estimate the whole import of this metal at about from fifteen to twenty millions; but it is to be remarked that, so far from being to the disadvantage of the Kanáwa, it proves a new material of industry, while only the smaller part remains in the country.

With regard to the precious metals, a small supply of silver is imported by the merchants, but rather exceptionally, most of the latter being but agents or commissioners engaged to effect the sale of the merchandise forwarded from Tripoli and Fezzán. The silver likewise supplies a branch of industry, the silversmiths, who are generally identical with the blacksmiths, being very clever in making rings and anklets. In Kanó scarcely any tradesman will object to receive a dollar in payment. With regard to iron, which forms a very considerable branch of industry in the place, I will only say that it is far inferior to that of Wándala or Mándara and Bubanjídda, which I shall mention in the course of my proceedings. Spears, daggers, hoes, and stirrups are the articles most extensively produced in iron.

As for gold, though a general standard, of the mithkál at four thousand kurdí, is usually maintained, in Timbúktu its price greatly varies, from three thousand five hundred up to four thousand five hundred kurdí; but this unreasonable fluctuation is but nominal, gold being scarcely ever bought in Timbúktu for ready money, but for túrkedís, when a túrkedí bought in Kanó for eighteen hundred, or at the utmost two thousand, fetches there a mithkál. One hundred mithkáls of gold may easily be bought in Kanó at any time. Even the common currency of the Kanó market, the “urí” (pl. kurdí) or shell (Cypræa moneta), two thousand five hundred of which are equal to the Spanish or Austrian dollar,[34] forms an important article of import and commerce, though I have not been able to ascertain that a large quantity is ever introduced at a time. Nevertheless that must sometimes happen, as a great amount of shells has been exported to Bórnu, where they have been recently introduced as currency; and this obviously explains why since the year 1848 the demand for these shells has so greatly increased on the coast.

These merely approximative figures cannot be reduced to the form of a balance-sheet; but they will give a general idea of the commercial activity of the place. I will conclude these few remarks by observing that the market of Kanó is better supplied with articles of food than any other market in Negroland; but meat as well as corn is dearer here than in Kúkawa, particularly the latter. Besides the great market-place, there are several smaller ones dispersed through the town, the most noted of which are the káswa-n-kurmí, Mandáweli, Hanga, káswa-n-máta, káswa-n-áyagi, káswa-n-Jírba, káswa-n-Yákase, káswa-n-kófan Wámbay, and the káswa-n-kófan Náyisa.

The province of Kanó, which comprises a very fertile district of considerable extent, contains, according to my computation, more than two hundred thousand free people, besides at least an equal number of slaves; so that the whole population of the province amounts to more than half a million; though it may greatly exceed this number. The governor is able to raise an army of seven thousand horse, and more than twenty thousand men on foot. In the most flourishing state of the country, the governor of Kanó is said to have been able to bring into the field as many as ten thousand horse.

The tribute which he levies is very large, considering the state of the country, amounting altogether to about one hundred millions of kurdí, besides the presents received from merchants. The most considerable item of his revenue consists in, the “kurdí-n-kása” (what is called in Kanúri “lárderám”), or the ground-rent. It is said to amount to ninety millions, and is levied, both here and in the province of Kátsena, not from the ground under cultivation, but every head of a family has to pay two thousand five hundred kurdí, or just a Spanish dollar; in the province of Zégzeg, on the contrary, the kurdí-n-kása is a tax of five hundred kurdí levied on every fertáña or hoe, and a single hoe will cultivate a piece of ground capable of producing from one hundred to two hundred “démmi” or sheaves of grain (sorghum and pennisetum), each of which contains two kél, while fifty kél are reckoned sufficient for a man’s sustenance during a whole year. Besides the kurdí-n-kása, the governor levies an annual tax called “kurdí-n-korófi,” of seven hundred kurdí[35] on every dyeing-pot or korófi, of which there are more than two thousand in the town alone; a “fítto” of five hundred kurdí on every slave sold in the market; an annual tax, “kurdí-n-debíno,” of six hundred kurdí on every palm-tree, and a small tax called “kurdí-n-ráfi” on the vegetables sold in the market, such as dánkali or sweet potatoes, gwáza or yams, rísga, rógo, etc. This latter is very singular, as the meat, or the cattle brought into the town, as far as I know, does not pay any tax at all. Clapperton was mistaken in stating that all the date-trees in the town belong to the governor, which is not more true than that all the sheds in the market belong to him.

The authority of the governor is not absolute, even without considering the appeal which lies to his liege lord in Sókoto or Wúrno, if the subjects’ complaints can be made to reach so far; a sort of ministerial council is formed, to act in conjunction with the governor, which in important cases he cannot well avoid consulting. At the head of this council stands the ghaladíma, whose office originated, as we shall see, in the empire of Bórnu, and who very often exercises, as is the case in Kanó, the highest influence, surpassing that of the governor himself; then follows the “serkí-n-dáwakay” (the master of the horse), an important charge in barbarous countries, where victory depends almost always on the cavalry; then the “bánda-n-Kanó” (a sort of commander-in-chief); then the “alkáli” or chief justice, the “chiróma-n-Kanó” (the eldest son of the governor, or some one assuming this title), who exercises the chief power in the southern part of the province; the “serkí-n-báy” (properly, the chief of the slaves), who has the inspection of the northern districts of the province as far as Kazáure; then the “gadó” or lord of the treasury, and finally the “serkí-n-sháno” (the master of the oxen, or rather the quartermaster-general), who has all the military stores under his care; for the ox, or rather the bull, is the ordinary beast of burden in Negroland. It is characteristic that, when the governor is absent paying his homage to his liege lord, it is not the ghaladíma, but the gadó and the serkí-n-sháno who are his lieutenants or substitutes.

With regard to the government in general, I think, in this province, where there is so much lively intercourse, and where publicity is given very soon to every incident, it is not oppressive, though the behaviour of the ruling class is certainly haughty, and there is, no doubt, a great deal of injustice inflicted in small matters. The etiquette of the court, which is far more strict than in Sókoto, must prevent any poor man from entering the presence of the governor. The Fúlbe marry the handsome daughters of the subjugated tribe, but would not condescend to give their own daughters to the men of that tribe as wives. As far as I saw, their original type has been well preserved as yet, though, by obtaining possession of wealth and comfort, their warlike character has been greatly impaired, and the Féllani-n-Kanó have become notorious for their cowardice throughout the whole of Negroland.

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XXVI. STARTING FOR KÚKAWA.—THE FRONTIER DISTRICT

Sunday, March 9.—The traveller who would leave a place where he has made a long residence, often finds that his departure involves him in a great deal of trouble, and is by no means an easy affair. Moreover my situation when, after much delay, I was about to leave Kanó, was peculiarly embarrassing. There was no caravan; the road was infested by robbers; and I had only one servant upon whom I could rely, or who was really attached to me, while I had been so unwell the preceding day as to be unable to rise from my couch. However, I was full of confidence; and with the same delight with which a bird springs forth from its cage, I hastened to escape from these narrow, dirty mud-walls into the boundless creation.

There being scarcely anyone to assist my faithful Gatróni, the loading of my three camels took an immense time, and the horseman destined to accompany me to the frontier of the Kanó territory grew rather impatient. At length, at about two o’clock in the afternoon, I mounted my unsightly black four-dollar nag, and following my companion, who (in a showy dress, representing very nearly the German costume about the time of the Thirty Years’ War, and well mounted), gave himself all possible airs of dignity, started forth from the narrow streets of Dalá, into the open fields.

I felt my heart lightened, and, forgetting what had passed, began to think only of the wide field now opening before me, if fresh means should reach us in Kúkawa. We had taken a very circuitous road in order to pass through the widest of the fourteen gates of the town; but the long passage through the wall was too narrow for my unwieldy luggage; and my impatient, self-conceited companion fell into despair, seeing that we should be unable to reach the night’s quarters destined for us. At length all was again placed upon the patient animals; and my noble Bú-Séfi taking the lead of the short string of my caravan, we proceeded onwards, keeping at a short distance from the wall, till we reached the highroad from the Kófa-n-Wámbay. Here too is a considerable estate belonging to a ba-Ásbenchí (a man from Asben), who has a company of slaves always residing here. Going slowly on through the well-cultivated country, we reached a small watercourse. Being anxious to know in what direction the torrent had its discharge, and unable to make it out from my own observation, I took the liberty of asking my companion; but the self-conceited courtier, though born a slave, thought himself insulted by such a question, and by the presumption that he ever paid attention to such trivial things as the direction of a watercourse, or the name of a village!

Having watered our horses here, I and my friend went on in advance, to secure quarters for the night, and chose them in a small hamlet, where, after some resistance, a mʿallem gave us up part of his courtyard surrounded with a fence of the stalks of Guinea-corn. When the camels came up we pitched our tent. The boy ʿAbdallah, however, seeing that my party was so small, and fearing that we should have some misadventure, had run away and returned to Kanó.

Though there was much talk of thieves, who indeed infest the whole neighbourhood of this great market-town, and, excited by the hope of remaining unpunished under an indolent government, very often carry off camels during the night even from the middle of the town, we passed a tranquil night, and got off at a tolerably early hour the next morning. The character of the country is almost the same as that during our last day’s march in coming from Kátsena, small clusters of huts and detached farms being spread about over the cultivated country, where we observed also some tobacco-fields just in flower: my attention was more attracted by a small range of hills in the distance on our left. I was also astonished at the little traffic which I observed on this route, though we met a considerable natron-caravan coming from Zínder, the ass and the bullock going on peaceably side by side, as is always the case in Negroland. The country continued to improve; and the fields of Charó, shaded as they were by luxuriant trees, looked fertile and well cared for, while the clusters of neat huts scattered all about had an air of comfort. Here we ought to have passed the previous night; and my companion had gone in advance to deliver his order, and probably to get a good luncheon instead of his missed supper. Beyond this village, or rather district, cultivation seemed to be less careful; but perhaps the reason was only that the villages were further from the road.

The quiet course of domestic slavery has very little to offend the mind of the traveller; the slave is generally well treated, is not overworked, and is very often considered as a member of the family. Scenes caused by the running away of a slave in consequence of bad and severe treatment occur every day with the Arabs, who generally sell their slaves, even those they have had some time, as soon as occasion offers; but with the natives they are very rare. However, I was surprised at observing so few home-born slaves in Negroland—with the exception of the Tuarek, who seem to take great pains to rear slaves—and I have come to the conclusion that marriage among domestic slaves is very little encouraged by the natives; indeed I think myself justified in supposing that a slave is very rarely allowed to marry. This is an important circumstance in considering domestic slavery in Central Africa; for if these domestic slaves do not of themselves maintain their numbers, then the deficiency arising from ordinary mortality must constantly be kept up by a new supply, which can only be obtained by kidnapping or, more generally, by predatory incursions, and it is this necessity which makes even domestic slavery appear so baneful and pernicious. The motive for making these observations in this place was the sight of a band of slaves, whom we met this morning, led on in two files, and fastened one to the other by a strong rope round the neck.

Our march was to be but a short one, as we were to pass the remainder of the day and the following night in Gezáwa; and as it was still long before noon, and we had the hottest time of the day before us, I was anxious to encamp outside the town in the shade of some fine tree, but my escort would not allow me to do so. We therefore entered the town, which is surrounded with a clay wall in tolerable repair, and moreover by a small ditch on the outside; but the interior presents a desolate aspect, only about a third part of the space being occupied by detached cottages. Here I was lodged in a small hot shíbki (reed hut), and passed the “éni” most uncomfortably, cursing my companion and all the escorts in the world, and resolved never again to take up my quarters inside a town, except where I was to make a stay of some length. I was therefore delighted, in the course of the afternoon, to hear from the man who had taken the camels outside the town upon the pasture-ground, that the sheríf Konché had arrived and sent me his compliments.

I had once seen this man in Kanó, and had been advised to wait for him, as he was likewise on his way to Kúkawa; but knowing how slow Arabs are, and little suspecting what a sociable and amiable man he was, I thought it better to go on; whereupon he, thinking that my company was preferable to a longer stay, hastened to follow me. To-day, however, I did not see him, as he had encamped outside the town; still I had already much reason to thank him, as he had brought back my fickle runaway servant ʿAbdallah, whom after some reprimand, and a promise on his side to remain with me in future, I took back, as I was very much in want of a servant. He was a native of the country, a Baháushe with a little Arab blood in him, and had been reduced to slavery. Afterwards, in Bórnu, a man claimed him as his property. His mother, who was living not far from Gérki, was also about this time carried into slavery, having gone to some village where she was kidnapped. Such things are of daily occurrence in these countries on the borders of two territories. The lad’s sister had a similar fate.

The inhabitants of Gezáwa seem to be devoted almost entirely to cattle-breeding; and in the market which was held to-day (as it is every Monday) outside the town, nothing else was offered for sale but cattle and sheep, scarcely a piece of cotton cloth being laid out, and very little corn. Also round the town there are scarcely any traces of cultivation. The mayor seemed not to be in very enviable circumstances, and bore evident traces of sorrow and anxiety; indeed the laziness and indolence of the governor of Kanó in neglecting the defence of the wealth and the national riches of his province are incredible, and can only be tolerated by a liege lord just as lazy and indifferent as himself. But at that period the country still enjoyed some tranquillity and happiness, while from the day on which the rebel Bokhári took possession of Khadéja, as I shall soon have occasion to relate, the inhabitants of all the eastern part of this beautiful province underwent daily vexations, so that the towns on this road were quite deserted when I passed a second time through this country, in December 1854.

Early next morning we loaded our camels and left the town, in order to join our new travelling companion, who by this time had also got ready his little troop. It consisted of himself on horseback, his “sirríya,” likewise on horseback, three female attendants, six natives, and as many sumpter-oxen. He himself was a portly Arab, with fine, sedate manners, such as usually distinguish wealthy people of the Gharb (Morocco); for he was a native of Fás, and though in reality not a sheríf (though the title of a sheríf in Negroland means scarcely anything but an impudent, arrogant beggar), yet, by his education and fine, noble character, he deserved certainly to be called a gentleman. The name “Konché” (Mr. Sleep) had been given to him by the natives, from his very reasonable custom of sleeping, or pretending to sleep, the whole day during the Ramadan, which enabled him to bear the fasting more easily. His real name was ʿAbd el Khafíf.

Our first salutation was rather cold; but we soon became friends; and I must say of him that he was the most noble Arab merchant I have seen in Negroland. Though at present he had not much merchandise of value with him, he was a wealthy man, and had enormous demands upon several governors and princes in Negroland, especially upon Múniyóma, or the governor of Múniyo, who was indebted to him for about thirty millions—shells, of course, but nevertheless a very large sum in this country. Of his “sirríya,” who always rode at a respectful distance behind him, I cannot speak, as she was veiled from top to toe; but if a conclusion might be drawn from her attendants, who were very sprightly, well-formed young girls, she must have been handsome. The male servants of my friend were all characteristically dressed, and armed in the native fashion with bows and arrows,—knapsacks, water-bottles, and drinking vessels all hanging around them in picturesque confusion; but among them there was a remarkable fellow, who had already given me great surprise in Kanó. When lying one day in a feverish state on my hard couch, I heard myself saluted in Romaic or modern Greek. The man who thus addressed me had long whiskers, and was as black as any negro. But I had some difficulty in believing him to be a native of Negroland. Yet such he was, though by a stay in Stambúl of some twenty years, from his boyhood, he had not only learned the language perfectly, but also adopted the manners, and I might almost say the features, of the modern Greeks. In such company we continued pleasantly on, sometimes through a cultivated country, at others through underwood, meeting now and then a motley caravan of horses, oxen, and asses, all laden with natron, and coming from Múniyo. Once there was also a mule with the other beasts of burden; and on inquiry, on this occasion, I learnt that this animal, which I had supposed to be frequent in Negroland, is very rare, at least in these parts, and in Kanó always fetches the high price of from sixty to eighty thousand kurdí, which is just double the rate of a camel. In Wángara and Gónja the mule seems to be more frequent. But there is only one in Kúkawa and in Timbúktu, the latter belonging to one of the richest Morocco merchants.

Animated scenes succeeded each other:—now a well, where the whole population of a village or zángo were busy in supplying their wants for the day; then another, where a herd of cattle was just being watered; a beautiful tamarind-tree spreading a shady canopy over a busy group of talkative women selling victuals, ghussub-water, and sour milk, or “cotton.” About ten o’clock detached dúm-palms began to impart to the landscape a peculiar character, as we approached the considerable but open place Gabezáwa, which at present exhibited the busy and animated scene of a well-frequented market. In this country the market days of the towns succeed each other by turns, so that all the inhabitants of a considerable district can take advantage every day of the traffic in the peculiar article in which each of these places excels.

While pushing our way through the rows of well-stocked sheds, I became aware that we were approaching the limits of the Kanúri language; for being thirsty, I wished to buy ghussub-water (“furá” in Háusa), but in asking for it, received from the woman fresh butter (“fulá” in Kanúri), and had some difficulty in making them understand that I did not want the latter. Continuing our march without stopping, we reached at noon the well-known (that is to say, among the travelling natives) camping ground of Kúka mairuá, an open place surrounded by several colossal specimens of the monkey-bread-tree, kúka or Adansonia digitata, which all over this region of Central Africa are not of that low, stunted growth which seems to be peculiar to them near the coast, but in general attain to a height of from sixty to eighty feet. Several troops of native traders were already encamped here, while a string of some thirty camels, most of them unloaded, and destined to be sold in Kanó, had just arrived. A wide-spreading tamarind-tree formed a natural roof over a busy market-scene, where numbers of women were selling all the eatables and delicacies of the country. The village lay to the south-east. Here we pitched our tents close together, as robbers and thieves are very numerous in the neighbourhood; and I fired repeatedly during the night, a precaution which the event proved to be not at all useless. The name of the place signifies “the Adansonia with the water.” However, the latter part of the name seemed rather ironical, as I had to pay forty kurdí for filling a water-skin, and for watering my horse and my camels; and I would therefore not advise a future traveller to go to a neighbouring village, which bears the name of “Kúka maífurá,” in the belief that he may find there plenty of cheap furá or ghussub-water.

Wednesday, March 12.—Our encampment was busy from the very first dawn of day, and exhibited strong proof of industry on the part of the natives; for even at this hour women were offering ready-cooked pudding as a luncheon to the travellers. Some of our fellow-sleepers on this camping-ground started early; and the two Welád Slimán also, who led the string of camels, started off most imprudently in the twilight. As for us we waited till everything was clearly discernible, and then took the opposite direction through underwood; and we had advanced but a short distance when a man came running after us, bringing us the exciting news that a party of Tuarek had fallen upon the two Arabs, and after wounding the elder of them, who had made some resistance, had carried off all their camels but three. I expressed my surprise to my horseman that such a thing could happen on the territory of the governor of Kanó, and urged him to collect some people of the neighbouring villages, in order to rescue the property, which might have been easily done; but he was quite indifferent, and smiling in his self-conceit, and pulling his little straw hat on one side of his head, he went on before us.

Small villages belonging to the district of Zákara were on each side, the inhabitants indulging still in security and happiness; the following year they were plunged into an abyss of misery, Bokhári making a sudden inroad on a market-day, and carrying off as many as a thousand persons. I here had a proof of the great inconvenience which many parts of Negroland suffer with regard to water, for the well at which we watered our horses this morning measured no less than three and thirty fathoms; but I afterwards found that this is a very common thing as well in Bórnu as in Bagírmi, while in other regions I shall have to mention wells as much as sixty fathoms deep. Beyond this spot we met a very numerous caravan with natron, coming from Kúkawa; and I therefore eagerly inquired the news of that place from the horsemen who accompanied it. All was well; but they had not heard either of the arrival or of the approach of a Christian. This natron, which is obtained in the neighbourhood of the Tsád, was all in large pieces like stone, and is carried in nets, while that coming from Múniyo consists entirely of rubble, and is conveyed in bags, or a sort of basket. The former is called “kílbu tsaráfu,” while the name of the latter is “kílbu bóktor.” We soon saw other troops laden with this latter article; and there were even several mules among the beasts of burden. The commerce of this article is very important; and I counted to-day more than five hundred loads of natron that we met on our road.

I then went on in advance with “Mr. Sleep,” and soon reached the village Dóka, which by the Arabs travelling in Negroland is called, in semi-barbarous Arabic, “Súk el karága,” karága being a Bórnu word meaning wilderness. The village belongs to the ghaladíma. Here we sat tranquilly down near the market-place, in the shade of some beautiful tamarind-trees, and indulged in the luxuries which my gentlemanlike companion could afford. I was astonished, as well as ashamed at the comfort which my African friend displayed, ordering one of the female attendants of his sirríya to bring into his presence a basket which seemed to be under the special protection of the latter, and drawing forth from it a variety of well-baked pastry, which he spread on a napkin before us, while another of the attendants was boiling the coffee. The barbarian and the civilized European seemed to have changed places; and, in order to contribute something to our repast, I went to the market and bought a couple of young onions. Really is incredible what a European traveller in these countries has to endure; for while he must bear infinitely more fatigue, anxiety, and mental exertion than any native traveller, he is deprived of even the little comfort which the country affords—has no one to cook his supper, and to take care of him when he falls sick, or to shampoo him;

“And, ah! no wife or mother’s care For him the milk or corn prepare.”

Leaving my companion to indulge in the “kief” of the Osmánli, of which he possessed a great deal, I preferred roving about. I observed that during the rainy season a great deal of water must collect here, which probably explains the luxurious vegetation and the splendid foliage of the trees hereabouts; and I was confirmed in my observation by my companion, who had travelled through this district during the rainy season, and was strongly impressed with the difficulties arising from the water, which covers a great part of the surface.

Having allowed our people, who by this time had come up, to have a considerable start in advance of us, we followed at length, entering underwood, from which we did not emerge till we arrived near Gérki. According to instructions received from us, our people had already chosen the camping ground on the north-west side of the town; but my horseman, who had gone in advance with them, thought it first necessary to conduct me into the presence of the governor, or rather of one of the five governors who rule over this place, each of them thinking himself more important than his colleague. The one to whom he presented me was, however, a very unprepossessing man, and not the same who on my return from the west in 1854 treated me with extraordinary respect. Yet he did not behave inhospitably to me: for he sent me a sheep (not very fat indeed), with some corn and fresh milk. Milk during the whole of my journey formed my greatest luxury; but I would advise any African traveller to be particularly careful with this article, which is capable of destroying a weak stomach entirely; and he would do better to make it a rule always to mix it with a little water, or to have it boiled.

The town of Gérki is a considerable place, and under a strong government would form a most important frontier-town. As it is, it may probably contain about fifteen thousand inhabitants; but they are notorious for their thievish propensities, and the wild state of the country around bears ample testimony to their want of industry. The market, which is held here before the south-west gate, is of the most indifferent description. The wall with its pinnacles is in very good repair. In order to keep the thievish disposition of the natives in check, I fired some shots late in the evening; and we slept undisturbed. On my return journey, however, in 1854, when I was quite alone with my party, I was less fortunate, a most enterprising thief returning thrice to his task, and carrying away, one after the other, first the tobe, then the trousers, and finally the cap from one of my people.

Thursday, March 13.—Not waiting for the new horseman whom I was to receive here early in the morning, I went on in advance with my companion, in order to reach Gúmmel before the heat of the day; and we soon met in the forest a string of twelve camels, all laden with kurdí or shells, and belonging to the rich Arab merchant Bú-héma, who resides in Múniyo, and carries on a considerable commerce between Kanó and Kúkawa. I will here mention, that in general one hundred thousand kurdí are regarded as a camel-load; a fine animal, however, like these will carry as much as a hundred and fifty thousand, that is, just sixty dollars or twelve pounds’ worth. It is easy to be understood that, where the standard coin is of so unwieldy a nature, the commerce of the country cannot be of great value.

About two miles before we reached the frontier town of the Bórnu empire in this direction, we were joined by the horseman of the governor of Gérki; and we here took leave of Háusa with its fine and beautiful country, and its cheerful and industrious population. It is remarkable what a difference there is between the character of the ba-Háushe and the Kanúri—the former lively, spirited, and cheerful, the latter melancholic, dejected, and brutal; and the same difference is visible in their physiognomies—the former having in general pleasant and regular features, and more graceful forms, while the Kanúri, with his broad face, his wide nostrils, and his large bones, makes a far less agreeable impression, especially the women, who are very plain and certainly the ugliest in all Negroland, notwithstanding their coquetry, in which they do not yield at all to the Háusa women.

Birmenáwa is a very small town, but strongly fortified with an earthen wall and two deep ditches, one inside and the other outside, and only one gate on the west side. Around it there is a good deal of cultivation, while the interior is tolerably well inhabited. Konché, who was in a great hurry to reach Gúmmel, would have preferred going on directly without entering the town: but as I was obliged to visit it in order to change my horseman, it being of some importance to me to arrive in Gúmmel with an escort, he accompanied me. The population consists of mixed Háusa and Kanúri elements.

Having obtained another man, we continued our march through a country partly under cultivation, partly covered with underwood, and were pleased, near the village Tókun, to find the Háusa custom of a little market held by the women on the roadside still prevailing; but this was the last scene of the kind I was to see for a long time. We reached the considerable town of Gúmmel just when the sun began to shine with great power; and at the gate we separated, the sheríf taking his way directly towards his quarters in the southern part of the town, while I was obliged to go first to the house of the governor, the famous Dan-Tanóma (the son of Tanóma, his own name being entirely unknown to the people); but on account of his great age, neither on this nor on a later occasion did I get a sight of him. Indeed, he was soon to leave this world, and by his death to plunge not only the town wherein he resided, but the whole neighbouring country, into a destructive civil war between his two sons.

However, on my first visit Gúmmel was still a flourishing place, and well inhabited, and I had to pass through an intricate labyrinth of narrow streets enclosed between fences of mats and reeds surrounding huts and courtyards, before I reached the dwellings of the few Arabs who live here: and after looking about for some time I obtained quarters near the house of Sálem Maidúkia (the Rothschild of Gúmmel), where my Morocco friend was lodged. But my lodgings required building in the first instance, as they consisted of nothing but a courtyard, the fence of which was in a state of utter decay, and a hut entirely fallen in, so that there was not the least shelter from the sun, whereas I had to wait here two days at least for my new friend, whose company I was not inclined to forego, without very strong reasons, on my journey to Kúkawa.

However, building is not so difficult in Negroland as it is in Europe; and a most comfortable dwelling, though rather light, and liable to catch fire, may be erected in a few hours; even a roof is very sufficiently made, at least such as is here wanted during the dry season, with those thick mats, made of reed, called “síggedi” in Bórnu. But most fortunately Sálem had a conical roof just ready, which would have afforded satisfactory shelter even from the heaviest rain. I therefore sent immediately my whole remaining supply of kurdí to the market to buy those mats and sticks; and getting four men practised in this sort of workmanship, I immediately set to work, and, long before my camels arrived, had a well-fenced private courtyard, and a splendid cool shade, while my tent served as a store for my luggage, and as a bedroom for myself.

Having, therefore, made myself comfortable, I was quite prepared to indulge in the luxurious luncheon sent me by the maidúkia, consisting of a well-cooked paste of Negro millet with sour milk; after which I received visits from the few Arabs residing here, and was pleased to find one among them who had been Clapperton’s servant, and was well acquainted with the whole proceedings of the first expedition. He had been travelling about a good deal, and was able, with the assistance of a companion of his, to give me a tolerably complete itinerary of the route from Sókoto to Gónja, the gúro-country and the northern province of Asianti. These Arabs necessarily lead here a very miserable sort of existence; Sálem, however, a native of Sókna, has succeeded in amassing a considerable fortune for these regions, and is therefore called by the natives maidúkia. He had a freed slave of the name of Mohammed Abbeakúta, who, though not at all an amiable man, and rather self-conceited, nevertheless gave me some interesting information. Among other things, he gave me a very curious list of native names of the months, which are not, however, those used by the Háusáwa, nor, I think, by the Yórubáwa, he having been evidently a native of Yóruba. He also gave me the following receipt for an antidote in the case of a person being wounded by poisoned arrows: a very young chicken is boiled with the fruits of the chamsínda, the áddwa (Balanites), and the tamarind-tree; and the bitter decoction so obtained, which is carried in a small leathern bag ready for use, is drunk immediately after receiving the poisonous wound, when, as he affirmed, the effect of the poison is counteracted by the medicine. The chicken would seem to have very little effect in the composition, but may be added as a charm. The next morning I went with ʿAbd el Khafíf to pay our compliments to old Dan-Tanóma. His residence, surrounded by high clay walls, and including, besides numbers of huts for his household and numerous wives, some spacious halls of clay, was of considerable extent; and the courtyard, shaded by a wide-spreading, luxuriant tamarind-tree, was a very noble area. While we sat there awaiting the governor’s pleasure, I had a fair insight into the concerns of this little court, all the well-fed, idle parasites coming in one after the other, and rivalling each other in trivial jokes. The Háusa language is the language of the court; and the offices are similar to those which I mentioned above with regard to Kanó. Having waited a long time in vain, the weak old man sending an excuse, as he could not grant us an interview, we returned to our quarters.

To-day being Friday was market-day; and in order to see the market in its greatest activity I mounted at noon on horseback, and went out. In all these parts of Negroland, the customs of which are in every respect so different from those of Yóruba and the neighbouring countries, the market (in Kúkawa and Maseña, as well as in Kanó, Sókoto, and even in Timbúktu) is always most frequented and most busy in the hottest hours of the day, notwithstanding the great fatigue which all the people, and particularly the strangers, have to undergo. The market of Gúmmel is held outside the town, between the two gates on the west side, but nearer to the “chínna-n-yalá”[36] (the northern gate), which is remarkable on account of its well-fortified condition.

Though I had heard a good deal about Gúmmel, I was nevertheless surprised at the size and the activity of the market, although that held on Saturday is said to be still more important. Gúmmel is the chief market for the very extensive trade in natron, which as I have mentioned above, is carried on between Kúkawa and Múniyo on one side, and Núpe or Nýffi on the other; for this trade passes from one hand into another, and the Bórnu people very rarely carry this merchandise further than Gúmmel. Large masses of natron, certainly amounting to at least one thousand loads of both qualities mentioned above, were offered here for sale—the full bullock’s load of the better quality for five thousand, an ass’s load of the inferior sort for five hundred kurdí. There were also about three hundred stalls or sheds, but not arranged in regular rows, where a great variety of objects were offered for sale,—all sorts of clothing, tools, earthenware pots, all kinds of victuals, cattle, sheep, donkeys, horses—in short, everything of home or foreign produce which is in request among the natives.

The Arabs have their place under a wide-spreading fig-tree, where I was greatly pleased to make the acquaintance of a very intelligent man called ʿAzi Mohammed Moníya, who gave me some valuable information, particularly with regard to the route from Kanó to Tóto, and that from Sókoto to Gónja. He also gave me the first accurate description of the immense town Alóri, or Ilóri, the great centre of the conquering Fúlbe in Yóruba, which I shall have frequent opportunity of mentioning in the course of my proceedings. This man, who was really very intelligent, had travelled a great deal, and had made a long stay in Stambúl, assured me that Alóri was, without the least doubt, larger than the latter city. Yet this immense town, of which the first accounts are due, I think, to Captain Clapperton, is sought for in vain in many of our most recent maps.

Greatly delighted with my visit to the market, though not a little affected by the exposure to the sun during the hot hours, I returned to my quarters; for though a practised traveller will bear very well the most scorching power of the sun, if he sets out in the morning and by degrees becomes inured to greater and greater heat, he may suffer fatally from exposing himself for a long time to the midday sun, after having spent the morning in the shade. Later in the afternoon, the governor sent, as a gift to me and ʿAbd el Khafíf, through his principal courtiers (such as the ghaladíma, the chiróma, and others, who were accompanied by a long train of followers), a young bullock, they being instructed at the same time to receive in return the present, or “salám,” as it is generally called, which we had prepared for him. I gave them a subéta and a small flask with rose oil, which is an article in great request with the fashionable world in Háusa and Bórnu. In the evening, we received also corn for our horses.

Saturday, March 15.—This was a most fortunate and lucky day for me; for suddenly, when I least expected it, I was visited by an Arab from Sókna, of the name of Mohammed el Mughárbi, who had just arrived with a little caravan of Swákena from Múrzuk, and brought me a considerable number of letters from friends in Tripoli, England, and Germany, after my having been deprived of news from them for ten months. The letters gave me great delight; but besides the letters there was something with them which touched me more sensibly, by the providential way in which it supplied my most urgent wants.

I was extremely short of cash, and having spent almost my whole supply of shells in fitting up my quarters, paying my guides, and discharging Makhmúd, who had proved quite unfit for service, I had very little left wherewith to provide for our wants on our long journey to Kúkawa. How surprised and delighted was I, then, on opening Mr. Gagliuffi’s letter, at the unexpected appearance of two Spanish dollars, which he forwarded to me in order to make good an error in my account with him. Two Spanish dollars! it was the only current money I had at that time; and they were certainly more valuable to me than so many hundreds of pounds at other times. However, the rascal who brought me the letters had also merchandise on the account of the mission, to the value of one hundred pounds; but, either because he wished to deliver it to the director himself, or in order to obtain also the hire stipulated for him if he should be obliged to carry the merchandise on to Kúkawa, he declared that the things had gone on in advance to Kanó,—an evident falsehood, which eventually caused us much unnecessary expense, and brought Mr. Overweg and myself into the greatest distress; for I did not, in fact, receive this merchandise till after my return from Ádamáwa—having subsisted all the time upon “air and debts.”

This and the following day I was busy answering my letters, and I will only mention here that from this place I intimated to one of my friends—Mr. Richard Lepsius, of Berlin—my foreboding that it might be my destiny, after trying in vain to penetrate to any great distance in a south-eastern direction, to turn my steps westwards, and to fill up my researches into the regions about Timbúktu by my personal experience. Having finished my parcel of letters, I gave it to the Mughárbi to take with him to Kanó, and entrust it to the care of one of my Tinýlkum friends, who would soon forward it to Múrzuk. Having been thus freshly imbued with the restless impulse of European civilization, and strengthened with the assurance that highly respected persons at such a distance took a deep interest in the results of our proceedings, I resolved not to linger a moment longer in this place, but rather to forego the company of my amiable friend, particularly as I knew that he was going to Múniyo, and therefore, after a few days’ march, would at all events separate from me. And I did well; for my friend did not reach Kúkawa before the middle of May, that is, six weeks after me. Such are the Arabs, and woe to him who relies upon them! The same thing happened to me on my successful return from Bórnu to the coast in 1855. Everybody assured me that the caravan was to leave immediately: but I went on alone in May, and reached Tripoli in August, while the caravan did not reach Múrzuk before March 1856. I therefore sent to Dan-Tanóma, begging him to furnish me with a horseman who would escort me to Máshena, and he assented. It was a hazardous and troublesome undertaking: I had only one servant, faithful, but young, and who had never before travelled this road; besides a little boy, delicate in body and unsteady in mind, and I was sure that I myself should have to do half the work, as well in loading and unloading the camels as in pitching the tent, and looking after everything.

Monday, March 17.—Having, taken a hearty leave of ʿAbd el Khafíf, I followed my camels and—my good luck. This was the first time on my journey that I travelled quite alone, and I felt very happy, though, of course, I should have been glad to have had one or two good servants.

The country on the east side of Gúmmel, at least at this time of the year, presented a very dull and melancholy appearance, and the most decided contrast to that cheerful and splendid scenery which is peculiar to the landscape round Kanó. Nevertheless, it seemed to be well inhabited, and we passed several places, some of them of tolerable size, and surrounded with earthen walls, of very inconsiderable elevation, and ditches; the courtyards, especially in the first town which we passed, the name of which is Kadángaré, “the lizard” in Háusa, were wide and spacious. A little later in the season the drought must be terribly felt in these quarters; for even at present we had great difficulty in watering our horses and filling a water-skin. Trees of good size became continually more scarce, but the country was still well inhabited, and after ten o’clock, near the little town Gósuwa, surrounded likewise by a low earthen wall, we reached a small market-place, consisting of about thirty stalls, where a market is held every Sunday; the town, however, was not thickly inhabited, and near its north-east corner especially there were large empty spaces.

Beyond this place the country became a little richer in trees, and we here passed a large village called Gáreji, where a path branches off leading to Maimágariá, a road generally taken by caravans. The population of all these places is composed of Bórnu and Háusa people, and many particular customs might be observed hereabouts, which are rather peculiar to the latter race. Dull as the country appeared, a feeling of tranquillity and security was communicated by the sight of little granaries, such as I have described above, scattered about without any protection in the neighbourhood of some villages. After we had passed the empty market-place of the little walled town Kábbori, the surface of the ground had a very peculiar look, being covered entirely with colocynths, which were just in maturity. About a mile and a half further on we took up our quarters in Benzári, a town belonging to the province of Máshena, or Másena, and were well received and hospitably treated by the ghaladíma. The town is separated into two parts by a spacious opening, wherein is the principal well which supplies almost the whole population, but its depth is considerable, being more than twenty fathoms. Here we filled our water-skin the next morning before we set out.

Tuesday, March 18.—Scarcely had we left Benzári behind us when my ears were struck by the distant sound of drums and singing, and I learnt on inquiry that it was Bokhári, or, as the Bórnu people call him, Bowári, the deposed governor of Khadéja and the brother of Áhmedu, the present ruler of that town. Bokhári’s name was then new, not only to me, but even to the natives of the neighbouring provinces. He had been governor of Khadéja, but being a clever and restless man he, or rather his jealous brother, had excited the suspicion of his liege lord ʿAlíyu, the ruler of Sókoto, who had deposed him and given the government to his brother Áhmedu, whereupon Bokhári had nothing else to do but to throw himself upon the hospitality and protection of the Bórnu people, who received him with open arms, the governor of Máshena, with the sanction of his liege lord the sheikh of Bórnu, assigning to him a neighbouring place, Yerímarí, for his residence. This is an incident of very frequent occurrence in these loosely connected empires; but it is particularly so with the Fúlbe, among whom one brother often cherishes the most inveterate hatred against another. Exactly the same thing we have seen already in Kátsena. Bokhári having remained some time quietly in this place, strengthening his party and assisted underhand with arms and men by the vizier of Bórnu, had just now set out to try his fortune against his brother, and was beating the drums in order to collect as many people as possible.

Predatory incursions are nothing new in these quarters, where several provinces and entirely distinct empires have a common frontier; but this, as the event proved, was rather a memorable campaign for the whole of this part of Negroland, and was to become “the beginning of sorrows” for all the country around. For Bokhári having taken the strong town of Khadéja, and killed his brother, was not only able to defend himself in his new position, vanquishing all the armies sent against him, and amongst them the whole military force of the empire of Sókoto, which was led on by the vizier in person, ʿAbdu the son of Gedádo, Clapperton’s old friend, but spread terror and devastation to the very gates of Kanó. Indeed, on my second journey through these regions, I shall have the sad duty of describing the state of misery into which districts, which on my former visit I had found flourishing and populous, had been reduced by this warlike chieftain, who instead of founding a strong kingdom and showing himself a great prince, chose rather, like most of his countrymen, to base his power on the destruction and devastation of the country around him, and to make himself a slave-dealer on a grand scale. Tens of thousands of unfortunate people, pagans as well as Mohammedans, unprotected in their wellbeing by their lazy and effeminate rulers, have from the hands of Bokhári passed into those of the slave-dealer, and have been carried away from their native home into distant regions.

Kept in alarm by the drumming, and making some not very tranquillizing reflections on the weakness of our little band, which consisted of three men and a boy, in the turbulent state of the country through which we were passing, we continued silently on, while the character of the landscape had nothing peculiarly adapted to cheer the mind. Cultivation beginning to cease, nothing was to be seen but an immense level tract of country covered with the monotonous Asclepias gigantea with only a single poor Balanites now and then. But the scene became more animated as we approached Chifówa, a considerable town surrounded by a low earthen wall, which I was greatly astonished to hear belonged still to the territory of Gúmmel, and was also assigned to Bokhári during his exile. The boundary between the provinces must run here in a very waving line.

All that I observed here testified that the Háusa population still greatly predominated; and as we had to turn close round the place on the north side, where the ground rose, we had a fine view over the whole interior of the town. It presented a very animated spectacle; and a large number of horsemen were assembled here, evidently in connection with the enterprise of Bokhári, while men and women were busy carrying water into the town from a considerable distance. Of cultivation, however, very few traces appeared; but a good many cattle and sheep, and even some camels, were seen grazing about. In Kaselúwa also, the next town, we were complimented with the usual Háusa salute. Having then passed through a monotonous tract of country covered with tall reed-grass and with the Asclepias, we reached the town of Yélkazá at half-past nine o’clock in the morning. Here the governor of the province of Máshena, who generally has his residence in the town of the same name, was staying at present, apparently on account of the expedition of Bokhári, which he was assisting underhand; and I accordingly had to pay him my compliments, as my horseman, who was a servant of Dan-Tanóma, could not well conduct me any further. We therefore entered the town by the north gate, and found people very busy repairing the fortification, consisting of two walls and three ditches of considerable depth, two of which ran outside round the outer wall, while the third was enclosed between the two walls.

Having presented ourselves at the residence of the governor, which was situated in the middle of the town, and consisted altogether of reed-work, we obtained good quarters, with a spacious and cool shed, which was the only thing we wanted; for being anxious not to lose any more time, I had resolved to start again in the afternoon. In order, therefore, to obtain a guide as soon as possible, I went to pay my compliments to the governor, whose name was Mohammed. After a little delay, he came out of the interior of his reed-house into the audience-hall, which likewise consisted entirely of reed-work, but was spacious and airy; there he sat down upon a sort of divan, similar to the ánkaréb used in Egypt, and made of the branches of the tukkurúwa, which had been brought in expressly for the purpose. My interview, however, was short, for neither was he himself a lively or inquisitive man, nor was my Tébu servant, whom, as I myself was not yet able to speak Kanúri with tolerable fluency, I was obliged to employ as interpreter, at all distinguished either by eloquence or by frankness, though in other respects he was an excellent lad.

I obtained, however, all that I wanted, the governor assigning me immediately a man who should accompany me to ghaladíma ʿOmár, the governor of Búndi, and I was glad that he did not grumble at my present, which consisted only of a small phial of rose oil and a quarter of a pound of cloves. The best and most usual present for the governors on this road, who are justly entitled to some gift, as no tolls are to be paid, is a subéta, or white shawl with red or yellow border, such as are brought from Egypt, which may be accompanied with some spices. The old man also sent me, after a little while, when I had returned to my quarters, a dish which at least was not richer than my present, consisting in a very unpalatable paste of Negro corn, with a nasty sauce of míya, or molukhíya. Háusa with its delicacies was behind us; and I was unable to procure, either for hospitality’s sake or for money, a dish of “fúra,” which I had become very fond of.

The heat was very great, though a light fresh breeze from the east made it supportable; and my new guide seemed by no means so anxious to go on as I was, so that I was obliged to search for him a long while. Having at length laid hold of him we started, passing through an undulating country without cultivation, and covered only with brushwood, and with the dreadfully monotonous káwo or Asclepias, when after three miles it became a little varied by underwood, the scene being enlivened by a karábka, or káfila, with nine camels coming from Kúkawa.

Thus we approached Taganáma, a considerable town, enclosed with a wall and a double ditch. We were obliged, however, to go round the whole town, the western gate being closed, and a sort of outwork, such as is very rare in these countries, consisting in a cross ditch projecting to a great distance, being made at its north-east corner. At length we reached the eastern gate, and entered the town. Its interior left on us an impression of good order and comfort; all the fences of the courtyards were in excellent repair, the huts large and spacious, and a certain air of wellbeing was spread over the whole place. Having obtained tolerable quarters, and corn for my guide’s horse and my own, we lay down early, in order to continue our journey with the first dawn next morning, but were aroused at midnight by some people arriving and stating, with an air of great importance, that they had letters for me. Greatly surprised, and wondering what these important despatches could be, I got up, but found, when I had kindled a light, that the letters were not for me at all but addressed to persons in Kúkawa unknown to me, by others in Kanó not better known. These unknown friends most probably, after I had fairly set out, had determined not to let slip this excellent opportunity of communicating with their friends in Kúkawa. However, the carriers of the letters thinking, and perhaps expressly made to think, that they had brought some important message for me, expected a handsome present; and I had some difficulty in persuading them that they were only giving me trouble for the sake of other people. Nevertheless, as they were unprovided with food, I ordered Mohammed to cook a supper for them; and after having disturbed my night’s rest by their noisy conversation, they made off again long before daylight. For in this whole district, where so many different nationalities border close together, the greatest insecurity reigns, and the inhabitants of one town cannot safely trust themselves to those of a neighbouring place without fear of being sold as slaves, or at least of being despoiled of the little they have.

My fine lancer, with whose manly bearing I had been very much pleased yesterday, appeared to have thought that, instead of exposing himself alone, by accompanying me further through a disturbed and infested district, he would do better to retrace his steps in the company of these people; for the next morning he was gone, and no trace of him was to be found. Perhaps he was anxious to join the expedition against Khadéja, where the soldier might make his fortune, while with me he could only expect to gain a few hundred shells; but whatever was his reason for decamping, he left me in a state of great perplexity, as I was in a hurry to go on as fast as possible; and in a country where there are no highroads, but where even tracks so important as that from Kanó to Kúkawa are nothing but small paths leading from one village or from one town to another, I could not well dispense with a guide. As regards security, I could only rely upon Providence and my own courage. Having in vain searched for my man, I loaded the camels, and mounting my horse, proceeded to the residence of the governor, who is the vassal of the ruler of Máshena. He, having been informed by his servants, soon came forth, a tall imposing figure, and seeing that my complaint was just, his liege lord having expressly assigned me the horseman in order to conduct me to Búndi, he assured me that he would find another guide for me; but as it would take some time, he ordered one of his servants to lead me out of the town to a place where the camels meanwhile might graze a little. Seeing that he was a just and intelligent man, I thanked him for his kindness, and followed his servant, who conducted us a few hundred yards from the town, where there was most excellent pasturage for the camels.

While we were waiting here for the guide, my companion, who was a sociable sort of man, helped me pass the time most agreeably with his instructive talk. I had observed a very curious object at the governor’s house—a leathern parcel of considerable dimensions, tied up with great care and hung on a long pole, and I had fancied that it contained the body of a criminal exposed there to every man’s sight as a warning example of severe punishment; but to my great astonishment I now learned that it was a powerful talisman suspended in order to protect the town against the Felláta, as the Bórnu people call the Fúlbe, whose inroads were greatly feared. He likewise informed me that four years ago there was a desperate struggle for Taganáma, when that town very narrowly escaped falling into the hands of those fanatical invaders. He praised his master, whose name as I now learned was Ísa. The cheerful aspect of the town seemed fully to confirm his praises, and I expressed my hope that his watchfulness and energy might be a better safeguard to the inhabitants than that monstrous talisman, the dimensions of which were really frightful. I was greatly pleased also to observe here the very first signs of preparing the ground for the approaching season, the slaves being busy clearing the soil with a sort of strong rake provided with four long wooden teeth, called “kámga”; but this is very rarely done, and the preparatory labours of agriculture must differ more or less in different districts according to the peculiar nature of the ground.

At length we saw the guides coming towards us. Instead of a horseman there were two archers on foot, short muscular men, clad only with a leathern apron round their loins, and for arms bearing, besides bow and arrows, the peculiar little Mánga battle-axe, which they carry on their shoulders, while a good sized leathern pocket for carrying provisions, and several diminutive garra bottles hung down by their sides. In short, they were real Mánga warriors, though they certainly did not inspire us with all the confidence which we should have wished to repose in a guide. However, having made them promise in the presence of the governor’s servant, who professed to know them well, that they would accompany me to Búndi, I started with them.

Having lost the finest hours of the morning, I was naturally anxious not to waste more time; and I was glad to perceive that the fine eastern breeze, which had prevailed for some days, greatly lessened the power of the sun. Soon afterwards we met the brother of the governor of Máshena, with a troop of twelve horsemen, hastening towards the point where the memorable campaign of Bokhári was to commence. The country was very monotonous, being soon covered with a forest of mean growth, uninterrupted by any tree of larger size, except the bare dismal-looking kúka or monkey-bread-tree, and presented evident signs of destructive warfare waged throughout it; we passed the former sites of several small towns and villages. The soil consisted here of deep white sand. After a march of about eight miles, however, the vegetation began to assume a different character, the ngílle or dúm-bush first appearing, then a karáge or gáwo (the locust-tree) being seen now and then, after which the dúm-palm began to prevail entirely. The substratum of this district is evidently granite, which seems to lie very close to the surface, as about noon a large mass of this rock projected near our path. A little beyond this point the wilderness was agreeably interrupted by an opening with stubble-fields, about which were scattered small granaries, producing, at such a distance from any inhabited place and without guardians, an agreeable feeling of security.

Half an hour afterwards we reached the stockade of Wuélleri, and proceeded directly to the house of the bíllama or mayor, as I wished to obtain here another guide, for it was only with the greatest difficulty that I succeeded in dragging on thus far my two archers, who had shown signs of the greatest anxiety during the latter part of the march, and had tried several times to turn their backs; but further they would not go on any account, and I was therefore obliged to dismiss them, paying them three hundred shells. Unfortunately the bíllama was not at home, and his brother proved to be a morose and surly fellow. I wished to stay here only during the hot hours of the day, and to proceed in the evening after having watered the camels; but he represented to me that the town of Máshena was too distant to be reached before night, if I did not go on directly. As this was impossible, I resolved to stay here for the night, and pitched my tent in an open place in front of a cool shed. However, we found great difficulty in watering our animals, the Mánga pretending that there was no water, though we ourselves had passed the well where the cattle had just been watered. Certainly the aquatic element was very scarce; and, after much debate, I was at length obliged to pay one hundred and fifty shells—an enormous charge, if the general price of the necessaries of life in this country be considered. Thus our poor camels got at length something to drink, and, with a good feed in the afternoon, were prepared for a long march the following day. However, we still wanted a guide; and, notwithstanding our begging, promising, and threatening, we were unable to persuade any one to accompany us on to Búndi. The reason of this, however, was not only on account of the absence of the governor of Máshena from his capital, but likewise owing to the unsettled state of the country, and the fear entertained by these people of being caught and sold into slavery. Indeed, between all these towns, there was scarcely any mutual intercourse kept up by the natives themselves.

Thursday, March 20.—Having exerted myself to the utmost to obtain a guide, I found myself obliged to start alone with my two young lads, the eldest of whom was eighteen, and the other not more than thirteen or fourteen years of age. Field and forest succeeded alternately to each other; and after a little less than two miles, we passed on our left a small village lightly fenced. Here we met also a small caravan, as a faint symptom of peaceable intercourse, though its array (covered as it went by an advanced guard of three archers marching at some distance, and performing at the same time the office of scouts, and by a rearguard of two more) showed clearly their sense of insecurity. The country now began to improve considerably; and a beautiful tamarind-tree vested in the richest foliage, and closely embracing a colossal leafless Adansonia, formed the beginning of a finer vegetation, while two mounts, one on our right hand and the other on our left, interrupted the monotonous level through which we had been travelling. Further on, granitic masses projected on all sides, and a solitary date-palm spread a peculiar charm over the landscape.

Having watered my horse at a well in the hollow between the two mounts, I reached, with my camels, the ditch and thorny fence then forming the only fortification of the town of Máshena, which place was strengthened, in the following year, with a clay wall. It lies on the gentle southern slope of an eminence, the top of which is crowned with a rocky crest, and is a considerable place for this country, having a population of certainly not less than ten thousand souls, but without the least sign of industry. A small káfila of Tébu and Arab merchants were encamped here; but although we arrived at the very hottest time of the day, I was too anxious to proceed to think of staying here; and having only asked the news from Kúkawa, and heard that all was well, I continued my march. It shows the slowness of intercourse in this country, that these people were ignorant of Mr. Richardson’s death, although he had died twenty days before at a place only six days’ march on this side of Kúkawa.

Keeping steadily on, first over open pasture-grounds, then through a country well wooded, we reached, after a march of about seven miles, a village, and entered it cheerfully with the intention of spending the night there, but were greatly disappointed on discovering that it was entirely deserted, and did not contain a living creature. Fortunately, however, after consulting what was to be done, we found a traveller who showed us a small path which was to lead us to the town of Alamáy. He also informed us that the inhabitants of this village, the name of which was Jáwel, had formed a new village further south. The little path pointed out, however, was so overgrown and slightly marked that we soon became doubtful and perplexed. I went, therefore, to inquire of a shepherd whom we saw at some little distance on the right of our path; but no sooner did he observe me approaching than he ran away, leaving his flock at our discretion.

The state of this country is very miserable indeed, all the petty governors around, as soon as they have any debts to pay, undertaking a predatory expedition, and often selling even their own subjects. However, we were lucky in finding at last a more trodden path, which soon brought us to an open, straggling village named Kárgímawa, which displayed a most animated and cheerful picture of a wealthy and industrious little community—the men sitting in the shade of some fine caoutchouc-trees, some of them busy making mats others weaving, while the women were carrying water, or setting the pot upon the fire for the evening repast. Cattle, goats, and fowl roved about in considerable quantities.

Quite delighted at arriving (in consequence of having strayed from the direct road) at this sequestered place, we pitched our tent with a grateful sense of security, and squatted comfortably down, while the camels found a rich repast in the fields. In one thing, however, I was disappointed. The sight of so many cattle had led me to anticipate a good draught of milk; but the cattle did not belong to the inhabitants, and before sunset they were driven away. In other respects we were hospitably treated, and four little dishes were brought us in the evening from different huts, three of which contained paste of Guinea-corn, and one beans. The latter always seemed to me an agreeable variety; but a European must be very cautious how he indulges in them in these regions, as they are apt to derange the stomach, and to bring on serious illness.

Friday, March 21.—Very early in the morning a numerous troop of small tradesmen, with pack-oxen, passed through the village while we awaited daylight; and then having gratefully taken leave of the hospitable villagers, we set out, accompanied by one of them, to show us the road. Having passed the former site of a little town, we soon gained the direct road, where we fell in with a motley gipsy-looking troop of those Tébu-Jétko, who, after the almost total annihilation of the commonwealth of Kánem, have immigrated into Bórnu. Those we met here were coming from Zínder. They had a few horses, oxen, and asses with them, but scarcely any luggage; and the whole attire of men, women, and children was very poor. We then passed the little town of Álamáy, surrounded not only with an earthen wall and ditch, but also with a dense thorny fence some ten feet thick on the outside. Here was exhibited the pleasant picture of a numerous herd of fine cattle lying tranquilly on the spacious area inside the wall, ruminating their last day’s repast, while a large extent of cultivated ground around the town gave ample proof of the industry of the people. But the well-being of the inhabitants of these regions has very little guarantee; and when, toward the end of the year 1854, I again travelled this same road, not a single cow was to be seen here, and the whole place looked mournful and deserted, tall reed-grass covering the fields which had been formerly cultivated.

Having then passed a thick forest of underwood, and some cultivated ground, half an hour before noon we reached Búndi,[37] the residence of the ghaladíma ʿOmár, fortified in the same way as Álamáy, and went up directly to the house of the governor, which consists entirely of reed-work. However, the mats (“lágará”) which surround the whole establishment are of very great height, at least fifteen feet, and of considerable thickness, made of a peculiar reed called “súgu,” and being sustained by long poles, and kept in a good state of repair, do not look ill. Besides, they are in general strengthened still further on the outside by a fence of thorny bushes.

The ghaladíma,[38] or governor of the Gháladí, which (as we shall see in the historical account of the Bórnu empire) comprised all the western provinces of Bórnu from the komádugu Wáube (the so-called Yéou) to the shores of the Kwára, having his residence in Bírni Ngurú, near Mármar, in former times was an officer (or rather an almost independent feudal vassal) of immense power; at present, however, he has sunk to great insignificance, and in real power is much inferior to his neighbours the governors of Múniyo, Zínder, and even that of Máshena. But the present ghaladíma ʿOmár is an intriguing man; and it would have been imprudent to pass on without paying him the compliment of a visit; and I was justified in hoping that he would provide me with a guide in order that I might reach as soon as possible the presence of his liege lord the sheikh of Bórnu.

Not being able to see him directly, I was obliged to sacrifice half a day, and to make up my mind to spend the night here. I therefore asked for quarters, and was lodged in a spacious but dirty courtyard, where I could procure but a very insufficient shade with my little English bell-tent of thin canvas. Having passed two uncomfortable hours without any refreshment, I was called in the afternoon into the presence of the governor, and being obliged to leave my servant behind to take care of my luggage while ʿAbdallah was pasturing the camels, I went alone, and found the great man in a spacious room or hall formed entirely of matwork, where he was lying upon an elevated platform or divan spread with a carpet. He was a short, well-fed, dark-coloured man, of about sixty years of age, his large, broad face looking forth from the hood of a blue cloth bernús, with a neutral expression indicating neither stupidity nor cleverness; his courtiers were grouped around him on the ground. Having saluted him and made the usual polite inquiries, I expressed my ardent desire to reach Kúkawa as soon as possible, as the day which I had fixed with my elder brother (Mr. Richardson) for a meeting in that place was drawing nigh; and I begged him, therefore, to grant me a guide who might conduct me there by the most direct road, of which I myself was ignorant, much time having been already lost in groping my way from one place to another. I then delivered my little present, consisting of an English razor and clasp-knife, a large mirror of German silver, a parcel of English darning-needles, half a pound of cloves, and a piece of scented soap. Having looked at these things with satisfaction, he asked me if I had not anything marvellous with me; and I consented to return to my quarters and fetch my musical box, with the performance of which the ghaladíma was highly pleased, but greatly desired to see some other curious things, such as pocket-pistols, whereupon I told him that I had nothing else calculated to gratify his curiosity. I was much fatigued, and on returning to my tent was not at all pleased to be still troubled by the governor’s servant, who came to ask, in the name of his master, for calico, sugar, rose oil, and sundry other articles.

Búndi is a place of tolerable size, but with little industry; and the province of which it is the capital is going to ruin more and more, on account of the laziness and negligence of its governor,—a statement which will be amply proved by the account of my journey through the same district in 1854. The town probably contains eight or nine thousand inhabitants, who belong to the Mánga nation, which seems to be the chief element of the Kanúri, and preserves many very remarkable customs. The special name of the clan of this tribe which dwells hereabouts is Kárda. There is no market here of any importance; but the inhabitants seem to be tolerably at their ease, and there was music and racing, or “kadáske,” in the evening, accompanied by the joyous shrill voices, the “wulúli,” of the women. We, however, seemed to be forgotten; and it was nine o’clock at night, long after we had supped, when we received a dish for ourselves, and corn for the horse. It is rather remarkable that these western provinces of Bórnu were never conquered by the Fúlbe or Felláta, though lying so much nearer to those countries of which they have definitively taken possession than that part of Bórnu situated between the old capital and the great lagoon. The consequence is, that a certain degree of independence is allowed to them, and that they do not pay any tithes to the sheikh.[39]

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XXVII. BÓRNU PROPER

Saturday, March 22.—The ghaladíma had promised to send me a horseman last evening, as I wanted to start early in the morning; but as we neither saw nor heard anything of him the whole night, I thought it better not to lose any more time, but to rely upon my own resources, and accordingly left the town quietly by the northern gate, while the people, after last night’s merriment, were still buried in sleep.

Following the great road, we kept on through a light forest, at times interrupted by a little cultivation. We met several parties—first of a warlike character, armed, horse and foot, then a motley band of natron-traders with camels, bulls, horses and asses, all laden with this valuable article. Emerging at length from the forest, we came upon a wide extent of cultivated land with a sandy soil, with hardly a single tree at present, and, the labours of the field not having yet commenced, still covered with the káwo or Asclepias, the characteristic weed of Negroland, which every year, at the beginning of the agricultural season, is cleared away, and which during the dry season grows again, often to the height of ten or twelve feet. We then had a most interesting and cheerful scene of African life in the open, straggling village of Kálimarí or Kálemrí, divided into two distinct groups by a wide open space, where numerous herds of cattle were just being watered at the wells; but how melancholy, how mournful, became the recollection of the busy animated scene which I then witnessed, when three years and a half later, as I travelled again through this district, the whole village, which now presented such a spectacle of happiness and well-being, had disappeared, and an insecure wilderness, greatly infested by robbers, had succeeded to the cheerful abode of man.

But inviting as the village was for a halt during the heat of the day, we had, as conscientious and experienced travellers, the stomachs of our poor animals more at heart than our own; and having watered the horse and filled our skins, we continued on for a while, and then halted in very rich herbage, where, however, there was scarcely a spot free from the disagreeable “ngíbbu,” the Pennisetum distichum. On starting again in the afternoon, the country began to exhibit a greater variety of bush and tree; and after a march of two hours, we reached the village Dármagwá, surrounded with a thorny fence, and encamped near it, not far from another little trading-party. We were soon joined by a troop of five Tébu merchants with two camels, a horse, and two pack-oxen, who were also going to Kúkawa, but who, unfortunately, did not suit me as constant companions, their practice being to start early in the morning long before daylight, which was against my principle, as well in a scientific as in a material point of view; for neither should I have been able to lay down the road with correctness, nor would even the best arms have guaranteed my safety while marching in the dark. We therefore allowed them next morning to have the start of us for full two hours, and then followed.

Sunday, March 23.—We now entered a district which may be most appropriately called the exclusive region of the dúm-palm or Cucifera Thebaïca in Negroland; for though this tree is found, in large clusters or in detached specimens, in many localities of Central Africa, yet it is always limited to some favoured spot, especially to the bank of a watercourse, as the komádugu near the town of Yo, and there is no other district of such extent as this tract between Kálemrí and Zurríkulo where the Cucifera Thebaïca is the characteristic and almost the only tree. My Gatróni thought that the trees would perhaps not bear fruit here; but on my second journey, in the month of December, they were loaded with fruit.

The country has a very peculiar open character, a sandy level very slightly undulating, covered thinly with tall reed-grass shooting forth from separate bunches, the line of view broken only now and then by a cluster of slender fan-palms, without a single trace of cultivation. I was anxious afterwards to know whether this tract has always had this monotonous, deserted character, or whether it had contained formerly any towns and villages; and from all that I could learn, the former seems to be the case. However, our road was frequented, and we met several little troops of native travellers, with one of whom I saw the first specimen of the “kúri,” a peculiar kind of bull of immense size and strength, with proportionately, large horns of great thickness and curving inwards. They are almost all of white colour. Their original home is Kárgá, the cluster of islands and swampy ground at the eastern corner of the Tsád.

After five hours’ marching, when we had just traversed a small hollow full of herbage, the dúm-palm was for a moment superseded by other trees, chiefly by the gáwo or karáge; but it soon after again asserted its eminence as the predominating tree. We encamped at length, ignorant as we were of the country, a few minutes beyond a small village, the first human abode we had met with since we had left Dármagwá, half an hour before noon, in the shade of a tamarind-tree, surrounded by a thick cluster of dúm-palms. Certainly the tamarind-tree indicated that water was near: but I was not a little surprised, when ʿAbdallah, who was tending the camels, brought me the news that a considerable river, now stagnant, was close behind us. It was, as I afterwards learnt, the “Wáni,” that branch of the komádugu Wáube (erroneously called “Yéu”) which runs past Khadéja and joins the other branch which comes from Katágum. We therefore watered our camels here without being obliged to pay a single shell, and gave them a good feed, after which we resumed our march, and were not a little astonished when, having crossed the komádugu where it formed a narrow meandering channel about fifty yards broad, and bordered on both sides with trees, we discovered the town of Zurríkulo at a short distance before us. Going round the north side of the town, we entered the dilapidated wall on the eastern side, where there was an open space, and pitched my tent close to the Tébu, who had arrived already in the forenoon. Soon after, there arrived also a káfila, with twelve camels and a number of oxen and asses, from Kúkawa, and I was anxious to obtain some news of Mr. Richardson; but these people were utterly ignorant of the actual or expected arrival of any Christian in that place. They told me, however, what was not very agreeable, that the sheikh of Bórnu was about to undertake a pilgrimage to Mekka; but fortunately, though that was the heart’s desire of that mild and pious man, he could not well carry it into execution.

I had now entered Bórnu proper, the nucleus of that great Central African empire in its second stage, after Kánem had been given up. It is bordered towards the east by the great sea-like komádugu the Tsád or Tsáde, and towards the west and north-west by the little komádugu which by the members of the last expedition had been called Yéou, from the town of that name, or rather Yó, near which they first made its acquaintance on their way from Fezzán. I had now left behind me those loosely attached principalities which still preserve some sort of independence, and henceforth had only to do with Bórnu officers. Not feeling very well, I remained in my tent without paying my compliments to the officer here stationed, whose name is Kashélla Sʿaid, with whom I became acquainted on another occasion, but the good man being informed by the people that a stranger from a great distance, who was going to visit his liege lord, had entered his town, sent his people to welcome me, and regaled me with several bowls of very good paste, with fresh fish, and a bowl of milk.

Zurríkulo was once a large town, and at the time of the inroad of Wadáÿ revolted from the sheikh, but was obliged to surrender to his brother ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán. Since then it has gradually been decaying, and is now half deserted. The neighbourhood of the town is full of wild animals; and great fear was entertained by my companions for our beasts, as we had no protection in our rear. The roaring of a lion was heard during the night.

Monday, March 24.—Next morning, when we resumed our march, the fan-palm for some time continued to be the prevailing tree; but some kúkas also, or Adonsonia digitata, and other more leafy trees began to appear, and after a while a thick underwood sprang up. Then followed a few scattered, I might say forlorn, date-trees, which looked like strangers in the country, transplanted into this region by some accident. The sky was clear; and I was leaning carelessly upon my little nag, musing on the original homes of all the plants which now adorn different countries, when I saw advancing towards us a strange-looking person of very fair complexion, richly dressed and armed, and accompanied by three men on horseback, likewise armed with musket and pistols. Seeing that he was a person of consequence, I rode quickly up to him and saluted him, when he, measuring me with his eyes, halted and asked me whether I was the Christian who was expected to arrive from Kanó; and on my answering him in the affirmative, he told me distinctly that my fellow-traveller Yakúb (Mr. Richardson) had died before reaching Kúkawa, and that all his property had been seized. Looking him full in the face, I told him that this, if true, was serious news; and then he related some particulars, which left but little doubt as to the truth of his statement. When his name was asked, he called himself Ismʿaíl; I learned, however, afterwards, from other people, that he was the Sheríf el Habíb, a native of Morocco, and really of noble blood, a very learned, but extremely passionate man, who, in consequence of a dispute with Mʿallem Mohammed had been just driven out of Kúkawa by the sheikh of Bórnu.

This sad intelligence deeply affected me, as it involved not only the life of an individual, but the whole fate of the mission; and though some room was left for doubt, yet in the first moment of excitement, I resolved to leave my two young men behind with the camels, and to hurry on alone on horseback. But Mohammed would not hear of this proposal; and indeed as I certainly could not reach Kúkawa in less than four days, and as part of the road was greatly infested by the Tuarek, such an attempt might have exposed me to a great deal of inconvenience. But we determined to go on as fast as the camels would allow us. We halted at eleven o’clock, shaded by the trunk of an immense leafless monkey-bread-tree, a little behind the walled place Kábi, the southern quarter of which is alone inhabited, and where our friends the Tébu had encamped. Starting then together with them at two o’clock in the afternoon, we took the road by Déffowa, leaving on our right that which passes Donári, the country now assuming a more hospitable and very peculiar character.

For here begins a zone characterized by sandy downs from one hundred to one hundred and twenty feet high, and exhibiting on their summits a level plain of excellent arable soil, but with few trees, while the dells separating these downs one from the other, and which often wind about in the most anomalous manner, are in general richly overgrown with a rank vegetation, among which the dúm-palm and the dúm-bush are predominant. This curious formation, I fancy, has some connection with the great lagoon, which in a former period must have been of much greater extent.

The intercourse on the road this afternoon was exceedingly animated; and one motley troop followed another,—Háusa fatáki, Bórnu traders or “tugúrchi,” Kánembú Tébu, Shúwa Arabs, and others of the roving tribe of the Welád Slimán, all mixed together,—while their beasts of burden formed a multifarious throng of camels, oxen, horses, and asses. The Welád Slimán, who were bringing camels for sale to the market of Kanó, were greatly frightened when I told them what had happened to their brethren near Kúka mairuá, as they were conscious that most of the camels now with them were of the number of those which two years ago had been taken from the Kél-owí in Bilma. As evening came on, the dells which we had to traverse were thronged with thousands of wild pigeons, carrying on their amorous play in the cool twilight of approaching night. All was silent with the exception of a distant hum, becoming more and more distinct as we wound along the side of an exuberant meandering valley. The noise proceeded from the considerable town of Déffowa, which we reached at a quarter past seven o’clock, and encamped at a little distance to the north. Lively music never ceased in the town till a late hour.

Tuesday, March 25.—All was still silent in the place when, early in the morning, I set out with my little troop to follow the track of our temporary companions the Tébu. The village was surrounded only by a light thorny fence; but it seemed to be prosperous and densely inhabited. The country continued similar in character, but better cultivated than the tract we had traversed the day before; and the immense multitude of wild pigeons, which found a secure and pleasant haunt in the rank vegetation of the hollows, made it necessary to resort to some expedient to keep them off. High platforms were therefore erected in the fields, in the shade of some tree; and ropes drawn from them were fastened to poles and coated with a peculiar vegetable extract, which caused them, if put into motion by a person stationed upon the platform, to give forth a loud sound, which kept the birds at a respectful distance. We saw here also a small cotton-field. If the country were more densely inhabited and the people more industrious and better protected by their slave-hunting governors, all the lowlands and valley-like hollows, which during the rainy season form so many water-channels, and retain a great degree of moisture during the whole year, would afford the most splendid ground for this branch of cultivation.

The repeated ascent and descent along steep slopes of deep sandy soil more than a hundred feet high was very fatiguing for the camels. While ascending one of these ridges, we had a very charming view over the whole of the neat little village of Kálowa, lying along the slope and in the hollow to our left. It was rather small, containing about two hundred huts, but every yard was shaded by a korna or bíto-tree (Balanites); and comfort (according to the wants felt by the natives) and industry were everywhere manifested. In the midst was a large open space, where the cattle were collecting round the wells to be watered, while the people were drawing water to fill the large round hollows, “kéle nkíbe,” made with little clay walls to serve as troughs. The blacksmith was seen busy at his simple work, making new hoes for the approaching season; the weaver was sitting at his loom; several were making mats of reed; some women were carrying water from the wells, some spinning or cleaning the cotton, while others pounded corn for their daily consumption. The little granaries, in order to preserve the stock of corn from the danger of conflagration, which every moment threatens these light structures of straw and reed, were erected on a sandy level near the edge of the slope. Even the fowls had their little separate abodes, also of reed, very thrifty and neat, as the accompanying woodcut will show. Such was the simple but nevertheless cheerful picture which this little village exhibited. My two boys were a long way ahead of me when I awoke from my reverie and followed them.

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 sheíkh 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 water-skins, 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 Bú-Séfi, the best (or rather the only good one) of my three camels, which, when it was growing dark, and ʿAbdallah 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 “fúra” 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 túrkedí, 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 dum-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 on 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.

Thursday, March 27.—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. 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,[40] 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 north-east 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.

Friday, March 28.—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 Tuarek 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 Tuarek, 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 ʿAbdallah 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 cornstalks 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 footprints 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 eastward, 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, tʿalha-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-enclosures 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 Tuarek. 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 Hejra 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.

Saturday, March 29.—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 Asben. 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, 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 Tuarek, 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 Tuarek, 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). 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 Tuarek.

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 at 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 Tuarek. These are chiefly the inhabitants of the little principality of Alákkos, of which I have had occasion to speak above, who, like all the Tuarek, 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 these 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.

Monday, March 31.—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 cornfields 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.

Tuesday, April 1.—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 water-skin, 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.

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XXVIII. ARRIVAL AT KÚKAWA

Wednesday, April 2.—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 goodwill 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 a 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.

Pushing on through a country of this description, and passing several villages, I reached about noon Beshér, a group of villages scattered over the cornfields, where numerous horsemen of the sheikh were quartered; and being unable myself to find the well, I made a bargain with one of the people to water my horse, for which he exacted from me forty “kúngona” or cowries. However, when I had squatted down for a moment’s rest in the shade of a small talha-tree, his wife, who had been looking on, began to reprove him for driving so hard a bargain with a young inexperienced stranger; and then she brought me a little tiggra and curdled milk diluted with water, and afterwards some ngáji, or paste of sorghum.

Having thus recruited my strength, I continued my march; but my horse, not having fared so well, was nearly exhausted. The heat was intense; and therefore we proceeded but slowly till I reached Kálilwá, when I began seriously to reflect on my situation, which was very peculiar. I was now approaching the residence of the chief whom the mission, of which I had the honour to form part, was especially sent out to salute, in a very poor plight, without resources of any kind, and left entirely by myself owing to the death of the director. I was close to this place, a large town, and was about to enter it without a single companion. The heat being just at its highest, no living being was to be seen either in the village or on the road; and I hesitated a moment, considering whether it would not be better to wait here for my camels. But my timid reluctance being confounded by the thought that my people might be far behind, and that if I waited for them we should find no quarters prepared for us, I spurred on my nag, and soon reached the western suburb of Kúkawa.

Proceeding with some hesitation towards the white clay wall which encircles the town, and which from a little distance could scarcely be distinguished from the adjoining ground, I entered the gate, being gazed at by a number of people collected here, and who were still more surprised when I inquired for the residence of the sheikh. Then passing the little daily market (the dyrríya), which was crowded with people, I rode along the déndal, or promenade, straight up to the palace, which borders the promenade towards the east. It is flanked by a very indifferent mosque, built likewise of clay, with a tower at its north-west corner, while houses of grandees enclose the place on the north and south sides. The only ornament of this place is a fine chédia or caoutchouc-tree in front of the house of ʿAli Ladán, on the south side: but occasionally it becomes enlivened by interesting groups of Arabs and native courtiers in all the finery of their dress, and of their richly caparisoned horses.

The sheikh, though he usually resides in his palace in the eastern town, was at present here; and the slaves stared at me, without understanding or caring to understand, what I wanted, until Díggama, the storekeeper, was called, who, knowing something of me as ʿAbd el Kerím, ordered a slave to conduct me to the vizier. Though I had heard some account of the sheikh living out of the western town, I was rather taken by surprise at seeing the large extent of the double town; and I was equally astonished at the number of gorgeously dressed horsemen whom I met on my way.

Considering my circumstances, I could not have chosen a more favourable moment for arriving. About two hundred horsemen were assembled before the house of the vizier, who was just about to mount his horse in order to pay his daily visit to the sheikh. When he came out, he saluted me in a very cheerful way, and was highly delighted when he heard and saw that I had come quite alone. He told me he had known me already, from the letter which I had sent to his agent in Zínder stating that I would come after I had finished my business, but not before. While he himself rode in great state to the sheikh, he ordered one of his people to show me my quarters. These were closely adjoining the vizier’s house, consisting of two immense courtyards, the more secluded of which enclosed, besides a half-finished clay dwelling, a very spacious and neatly built hut. This, as I was told, had been expressly prepared for the mission before it was known that we were without means.

I had scarcely taken possession of my quarters when I received several visits from various parties attached to the mission, who all at once made me quite au fait of all the circumstances of my not very enviable situation as one of its surviving members. The first person who called upon me was Ibrahím, the carpenter, who, at Mr. Richardson’s request, had been sent up from Tripoli, at the monthly salary of twenty mahbúbs besides a sum of four dollars for his maintenance. He was certainly a handsome young man, about twenty-two years of age, a native of “the holy house” (Bét el mogaddus) or Jerusalem, with big sounding phrases in his mouth, and quite satisfied to return with me directly to Fezzán without having done anything. Then came his more experienced and cheerful companion, ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, a real sailor, who was not so loud in his clamours, but urged more distinctly the payment of his salary, which was equal to that of Ibrahím.

After I had consoled these dear friends, and assured them that I had no idea at present of returning northward, and that I should do my best to find the means of satisfying the most urgent of their claims, there arrived another of the bloodsuckers of the mission, and the most thirsty of them all. It was my colleague, the bibulous Yusuf, son of Mukni the former governor of Fezzán, accompanied by Mohammed ben Bu-Sʿad, whom Mr. Richardson, when he discharged Yusuf in Zínder, had taken into his service in his stead, and by Mohammed ben Habíb, the least serviceable of Mr. Richardson’s former servants. Yusuf was mounted upon a fine horse, and most splendidly dressed; but he was extremely gracious and condescending, as he entertained the hope that my boxes and bags, which had just arrived with my faithful Gatróni, were full of shells, and that I should be able to pay his salary at once. He was greatly puzzled when I informed him of my extreme poverty. Mr. Richardson’s other servants, to my great regret, had gone off the day before, unpaid as they were, in order to regain their various homes.

I now ascertained that the pay due to Mr. Richardson’s servants amounted to more than three hundred dollars; besides which there was the indefinite debt to the Sfáksi, amounting in reality to twelve hundred and seventy dollars, but which, by the form in which the bill had been given, might easily be doubled. I did not possess a single dollar, a single bernús, nor anything of value, and moreover was informed by my friends that I should be expected to make both to the sheikh and to the vizier a handsome present of my own. I now saw also that what the Sheríf el Habíb had told me on the road (viz. that all Mr. Richardson’s things had been divided and squandered) was not altogether untrue. At least, they had been deposited with the vizier on very uncertain conditions, or rather had been delivered up to him by the two interpreters of our late companion, intimating to him that I and Mr. Overweg were quite subordinate people attached to the mission, and that we had no right to interfere in the matter.

Seeing how matters stood, I thought it best, in order to put a stop to the intrigues which had been set a going, to take Mohammed ben Sʿad into my service on the same salary which he had received from Mr. Richardson. Besides, I pledged my word to all that they should each receive what was due to him, only regretting that the rest of Mr. Richardson’s people had already gone away. After all these communications, fraught with oppressive anxiety, I received a most splendid supper as well from the sheikh as from the vizier, and, after the various exertions of the day, enjoyed a quiet night’s rest in my clean cottage.

Thus strengthened, I went the next morning to pay my respects to the vizier, taking with me a small present of my own, the principal attractions of which lay in a thick twisted lace of silk of very handsome workmanship, which I had had made in Tripoli, and a leathern letter-case of red colour, which I had brought with me from Europe. Destitute as I was of any means, and not quite sure as yet whether Her Britannic Majesty’s Government would authorize me to carry out the objects of the mission, I did not deem it expedient to assume too much importance, but simply told the vizier that, though the director of the mission had not been fortunate enough to convey to him and the sheikh with his own mouth the sentiments of the British Government, yet I hoped that, even in this respect, these endeavours would not be quite in vain, although at the present moment our means were so exhausted that, even for executing our scientific plans, we were entirely dependent on their kindness.

The same reserve I maintained in my interview with the sheikh on the morning of Friday, when I laid little stress upon the object of our mission (to obtain security of commerce for English merchants), thinking it better to leave this to time, but otherwise dwelling upon the friendship established between the sheikh’s father and the English, and representing to them that, relying upon this manifestation of their friendly disposition, we had come without reserve to live awhile among them, and under their protection and with their assistance to obtain an insight into this part of the world, which appeared so strange in our eyes. Our conversation was quite free from constraint or reserve, as nobody was present besides the sheikh and the vizier.

I found the sheikh (ʿOmár, the eldest son of Mohammed el Amín el Kánemy) a very simple, benevolent, and even cheerful man. He has regular and agreeable features, rather a little too round to be expressive; but he is remarkably black—a real glossy black, such as is rarely seen in Bórnu, and which he has inherited undoubtedly from his mother, a Bagírmaye princess. He was very simply dressed in a light tobe, having a bernús negligently wrapped round his shoulder; round his head a dark-red shawl was twisted with great care; and his face was quite uncovered, which surprised me not a little, as his father used to cover it in the Tuarek fashion. He was reclining upon a divan covered with a carpet, at the back of a fine airy hall neatly polished.

My presents were very small, the only valuable article among them being a nice little copy of the Kurán, which on a former occasion I had bought in Egypt for five pounds sterling, and was now carrying with me for my own use. That I made a present of this book to the prince may perhaps be regarded with an unfavourable eye by some persons in this country; but let them consider it as a sign of an unprejudiced mind, and of the very high esteem in which he held me, that, although knowing me to be a Christian, he did not refuse to accept from my hands that which was most holy in his eyes. On the whole I could not have expected a more friendly reception, either from the sheikh or from his vizier. But there was a very delicate point which I was obliged to touch upon: what was to become of Mr. Richardson’s property?

In the afternoon I went again to the vizier, and requested to see the inventory of all that my late companion had left; and he showed it to me and read it himself. He then ordered the box to be opened, which contained clothes and papers; and I was glad to see that not only the journals, upon the keeping of which Mr. Richardson had bestowed great care, but also all his other collectanea, were safe. Having taken the inventory with me, I sent Mohammed the following day to him with the request that Mr. Richardson’s property should be delivered to me. Having been desired to call myself at noon, I went, but was surprised to find only Lamíno (properly el Amín), the vizier’s confidential officer, of whom I shall have occasion to speak hereafter. I was still more surprised when only some of Mr. Richardson’s boxes were brought in, and I was desired to select what I wanted, and leave the rest behind. This I refused to do, and asked where the other things were, when Lamíno did not hesitate to declare that the ornamented gun and the handsome pair of pistols had been sold. Upon hearing this, though I had been treated very kindly and hospitably on my arrival, and had received immense quantities of provision of every kind, I could not refrain from declaring that if in truth they had behaved so unscrupulously with other people’s property I had nothing more to do here, and returned to my quarters immediately.

My firmness had its desired effect; and late in the evening I received a message from the vizier, that if I wanted to have a private interview with him I might come now, as during the daytime he was always troubled by the presence of a great many people. The person who brought me this message was Háj Edrís, a man of whom in the course of my proceedings I shall have to speak repeatedly. Satisfied with having an opportunity of conversing with the vizier without reserve, I followed the messenger immediately, and found Háj Beshír quite alone, sitting in an inner court of his house, with two small wax candles by his side. We then had a long interview, which lasted till midnight, and the result of which was that I protested formally against the sale of those things left by Mr. Richardson, and insisted that all should be delivered to me and to Mr. Overweg as soon as he should arrive, when we would present to the sheikh and to the vizier, in a formal manner all those articles which we knew our companion had intended to give to them. Besides, I urged once more the necessity of forwarding the news of Mr. Richardson’s death, and of my safe arrival as soon as possible, as, after our late misfortunes in Aír, Her Britannic Majesty’s Government, as well as our friends, would be most anxious about our safety. I likewise tried to persuade my benevolent and intelligent host that he might do a great service to the mission, if he would enable us to carry out part of our scientific purposes without delay, as Government would certainly not fail to honour us with their confidence, if they saw that we were going on. Having carried all my points, and being promised protection and assistance to the widest extent, I indulged in a more friendly chat, and, delighted by the social character of my host, and full of the most confident hopes for my future proceedings, withdrew a little after midnight.

Having in this way vindicated the honourable character of the mission, and my own, I applied myself with more cheerfulness to my studies and inquiries, for which I found ample opportunity; for many distinguished personages from distant countries were staying here at this time, partly on their journey to or from Mekka, partly only attracted by the fame of the vizier’s hospitable and bounteous character. But before I give any account of my stay in Kúkawa previous to my setting out for Ádamáwa, I think it well to try to impart to the reader a more lively interest in the country to which he has thus been transferred, by laying before him a short account of its history, as I have been able to make it out from original documents and from oral information.

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