Chapter XXXIV…

Chapter XXXIV

ÁDAMÁWA.—MOHAMMEDAN SETTLEMENTS IN THE HEART OF CENTRAL AFRICA.

We had now reached the border of Ádamáwa, the country after which I had been panting so long, and of which I had heard so many interesting accounts, a Mohammedan kingdom engrafted upon a mixed stock of pagan tribes,—the conquest of the valorous and fanatic Púllo chieftain, Ádama, over the great pagan kingdom of Fúmbiná.

I was musing over the fate of the native races of this country, when the governor, with a numerous suite, came to pay me a visit. Neither he nor any of his companions were dressed with any degree of elegance, or even cleanliness. I had endeavoured in vain to obtain information from my companions as to the period when the Fúlbe had begun to emigrate into this country; but they were unable to give me any other answer, than that they had been settled in the country from very ancient times, and that not only the fathers but even the grandfathers of the present generation had inhabited the same region as cattle-breeders, “berroróji.” Neither the governor nor any of his people were able to give me more precise information, so that I was obliged to set my hopes upon the capital, where I was more likely to find a man versed in the history of his tribe. I then communicated to my visitor my wish to ascend the ridge, which overlooks the place, and on the top of which, according to Mohámmedu, a spring bubbled up between the rocks. The governor advised me to defer the excursion till the morrow, but as the weather was fine at the time, and as at this season it was very doubtful whether it would be so the next morning, I expressed a wish to obtain at once a view at least over the opposite mountain-chain. He then told me that I might do as I liked, and followed me with his whole suite. The ridge, on this side at least, consisted entirely of enormous blocks of granite heaped one upon the other in wild confusion, and making the ascent extremely difficult, nay, impossible, without ropes, so that, with the utmost trouble, we reached the height of a little more than a hundred feet, which gave me, however, an advantageous position for obtaining a view over the broad valley and the mountain range beyond, of which, on my return journey, I made a sketch, which is represented in the woodcut on page 429.

Some of the governor’s people, however, were very agile in climbing these blocks, and they need to be so if they wish to subject the native inhabitants, who, when pursued, retire to these natural strongholds, which are scattered over nearly the whole of this country.

We had scarcely returned to our quarters, when a storm broke out, but it was not accompanied with a great quantity of rain. Our cheer was indifferent; and we passed our evening in rather a dull manner.

Wednesday, June 11.—Seeing that the weather was gloomy, and being afraid of the fatigue connected with the ascent of the ridge even along a more easy path, as I was well aware how much my constitution had been weakened, I preferred going on, and gave orders for starting. On leaving the western gate of the town, which is formed of very large trunks of trees, we entered on a tract of cornfields in a very promising condition, while at the same time a number of young jet-black slave girls, well fed, and all neatly dressed in long aprons of white clean gábagá, and having their necks adorned with strings of glass beads, were marched out to their daily labour in the field.

The town formerly extended much further in this direction, till it was ransacked and plundered by Ramadan, a slave and officer of the sheikh Mohammed el Kánemi. Before the Fúlbe occupied these regions, the slave-hunting expeditions of the people of Bórnu often extended into the very heart of Ádamáwa. The Fúlbe certainly are always making steps towards subjugating the country, but they have still a great deal to do before they can regard themselves as the undisturbed possessors of the soil. Even here, at no great distance beyond the little range which we had on our right, an independent tribe called Gílle still maintains itself, and on my return journey I shall have to relate an unsuccessful expedition of the governor of Úba against the Kilba-Gáya.

Our camels, “gelóba,” began now to be objects of the greatest curiosity and wonder to the natives; for it happens but rarely that this animal is brought into the country, as it will not bear the climate for any length of time. This is certainly a circumstance not to be lost sight of by those who contemplate trade and intercourse with the equatorial regions; but of course the European, with his energy and enterprise, might easily succeed in acclimatizing the camel by preparing himself for great losses in the beginning.

When the range on our right terminated, our view extended over a great expanse of country, from which several mountain groups started up, entirely detached one from the other and without any connecting chain, and I sketched three of them, which are represented above. Of the names of the first two, my companions were not quite sure; but they all agreed in calling the last Kilba-Gáya. In front of us a considerable mountain mass called Fingting developed itself, and behind it another with the summits Bá and Yaurogúdde. Keeping along the plain, sometimes over fine pasture-grounds, at other times over cultivated fields, and crossing several little streams, we at length came to a brook or rivulet of a somewhat larger size, which is said to issue from Mount Gúri towards the south-east, and receiving another brook coming from Mount Dáwa, runs westward.

Having here considered whether we should go on or take up our quarters in Múbi, which was close by, we decided upon the latter, and entered the place. But we had to wait a long while in front of the governor’s house, and were at length conducted into quarters so insufficient that we preferred encamping outside the town, and pitched our tent near a tree, which promised to afford us a shady place during the hot hours of the day. But we had scarcely made ourselves comfortable when the governor’s servants came and requested me most urgently to come into the town, promising us good lodgings; I therefore gave way, and told them that I would go to my promised quarters towards night. As long as the weather was dry, the open air was much more agreeable; and I turned our open encampment to account by taking accurate angles of all the summits around; but a storm in my small and weak tent was a very uncomfortable thing, and I gladly accepted the offer of good quarters for the night.

In the course of the afternoon almost the whole population of the town came out to see me and my camels, and the governor himself came on horseback, inviting me into his own house, when I showed him my chronometer, compass, and telescope, which created immense excitement, but still greater was the astonishment of those particularly who knew how to read, at the very small print in my Prayer-Book. The amiable side of the character of the Fúlbe is their intelligence and vivacity, but they have a great natural disposition to malice, and are not by any means so good-natured as the real Blacks; for they really are—certainly more in their character than in their colour—a distinct race between the Arab and Berber on the one side and the Negro stock on the other, although I would not suppose that the ancients had taken their prototype of Leucæthiopes from them. However striking may be the linguistic indications of a connection of this tribe with the Kaffers of South Africa, there can be no doubt that historically they have proceeded from the west towards the east. But of this more on another occasion.

I stayed out till the sun went down, and before leaving my open dwelling sketched the long range of mountains to the east, together with the Fingting.

Between Mount Meshíla and Mount Kírya a road leads to the seats of the Komá.

The whole plain affords excellent pasture, and the town itself is a straggling place of great extent. That part of the governor’s house which he assigned to me consisted of a courtyard with a very spacious and cool hut, having two doors or openings, and the ground-floor was strewn with pebbles instead of sand, which seems to be the custom here throughout the rainy season. My host spent a great part of the evening in our company. I made him a present of ten sheets of paper, which, as a learned man in a retired spot who had never before seen so much writing material together, caused him a great deal of delight, though he seemed to be of a sullen temper. He informed me that the Fúlbe settled here belonged to the tribe of the Híllega.

Thursday, June 12.—Although the weather was very gloomy, we set out in the morning through the rich grassy plain, which only round the settlements was laid out in cultivated fields; we crossed and re-crossed the river of the day before, which keeps meandering through the plain. When we reached the village Bagma, which was cheerfully enlivened by a numerous herd of cattle, I was struck with the size and shape of the huts, which testified to the difference of the climate which we had entered, not less than to the mode of living of the inhabitants. Some of these huts were from forty to sixty feet long, about fifteen broad, and from ten to twelve high, narrowing above to a ridge, and thatched all over, no distinction being made between roof and wall; others had a very peculiar shape, consisting of three semicircles.

The reason for making the huts so spacious is the necessity of sheltering the cattle, particularly young cattle, against the inclemency of the weather. Some of them were nothing better than stables, while others combined this distinction with that of a dwelling-house for the owner. The village is separated into two quarters by the river, and is inhabited entirely by Mohammedans. The news of a marvellous novelty soon stirred up the whole village, and young and old, male and female, all gathered round our motley troop, and thronged about us in innocent mirth, and as we proceeded the people came running from the distant fields to see the wonder; but the wonder was not myself, but the camel, an animal which many of them had never seen, fifteen years having elapsed since one had passed along this road. The chorus of shrill voices, “gelóba, gelóba,” was led by two young wanton Púllo girls, slender as antelopes, and wearing nothing but a light apron of striped cotton round their loins, who, jumping about and laughing at the stupidity of these enormous animals, accompanied us for about two miles along the fertile plain. We passed a herd of about three hundred cattle. Gradually the country became covered with forest, with the exception of patches of cultivated ground, and we entered between those mountains which had been during the whole morning in front of us; here also granite prevailed, and all the mountains were covered with underwood.

About nine o’clock the path divided, and my companions for a long time were at a loss to decide which of the two they should follow; Bíllama having some objection to pass the night in Mbutúdi, which he thought was only inhabited by pagans, and preferring Múglebú, where he had acquaintances; but at length the people of Ádamáwa carried their point, and we chose the westernmost road, which passes by Mbutúdi. The wilderness now gave way to open pastures, and we passed some cornfields when we came to the farm of a wealthy Púllo named Alkáso, who in the midst of a numerous family was leading here the life of a patriarch. Hearing that a stranger from a far-distant country was passing by, the venerable old man came out of his village to salute me, accompanied by his sons, and two of the latter, who had evidently no idea of the heresy of the Christian religion, ran a long distance by the side of my horse, and did not turn back till I had given them my blessing. Pleasant as was their innocent behaviour, showing a spirit full of confidence, I was rather glad when they were gone, as I wished to take some angles of the mountains which appeared scattered through the wild and gloomy plain on our right.

After a while the low chain of hills on our left was succeeded by a range of higher mountains attached to the broad cone of the Fáka. A little before we had obtained a view of the rocky mount of Mbutúdi, and we now observed the first gigiña (“dugbi” in Fulfúlde), or deléb-palm, the kind of Hyphæna which I have already occasionally mentioned as occurring in other localities, but which distinguishes this place in a most characteristic way. The ground was covered with rich herbage, from which numerous violets peeped forth.

We had now reached Mbutúdi, a village situated round a granite mount of about six hundred yards’ circumference, and rising to the height of about three hundred feet. It had been a considerable place before the rise of the Fúlbe, encompassing on all sides the mount, which had served as a natural citadel; but it has been greatly reduced, scarcely more than one hundred huts altogether now remaining; and were it not for the picturesque landscape—the steep rocky mount overgrown with trees, and the slender deléb-palms shooting up here and there, and forming some denser groups on the south-east side,—it would be a most miserable place.

My companions were greatly astonished to find that, since they went to Kúkawa, some Fúlbe families had settled here: for formerly none but native pagans lived in the village. It was, therefore, necessary that we should address ourselves to this ruling class; and after we had waited some time in the shade of some caoutchouc-trees, a tall, extremely slender Púllo, of a very noble expression of countenance, and dressed in a snow-white shirt, made his appearance, and after the usual exchange of compliments, and due inquiry on the part of my companions after horse, cattle, mother, slaves, and family[55], conducted us to a dwelling not far from the eastern foot of the rock, consisting of several small huts, with a tall gigiña in the middle of its courtyard, which was never deserted by some large birds of the stork family,—most probably some European wanderers. However, it had the great disadvantage of being extremely wet, so that I preferred staying outside; and going to some distance from the huts, I laid myself down in the shade of a tree, where the ground was comparatively dry. The weather had been very cool and cheerless in the morning, and I was glad when the sun at length came forth, increasing the interest of the landscape, of which I took a view.[56]

I here tried, for the first time, the fruit of the deléb-palm, which were just ripe; but I did not find it worth the trouble, as it really requires a good deal of effort to suck out the pulp, which is nothing but a very close and coarse fibrous tissue, not separating from the large stone, and having a mawkish taste, which soon grows disagreeable. It cannot be at all compared with the banana, and still less with the fruit of the gónda-tree. It is, when full grown, from six to eight inches long and four inches across, and of a yellowish-brown colour; the kernel is about two inches and a half long and one inch thick. However, it is of importance to the natives, and, like the fruit of the dúm-palm, it yields a good seasoning for some of their simple dishes. They make use of the stone also, breaking and planting it in the ground, when, in a few days, a blade shoots forth with a very tender root, which is eaten just like the kelingoes; this is called “múrrechi” by the Háusa people, “báchul” by the Fúlbe, both of whom use it very extensively. But it is to be remarked that the gigiña, or deléb-palm, is extremely partial in its local distribution, and seems not at all common in Ádamáwa, being, as my companions observed, here confined to a few localities, such as Láro and Song; while in the Músgu country it is, according to my own observation, the predominant tree; and, from information, I conclude this to be the case also in the southern provinces of Bagírmi, particularly in Sómray and Day. However, the immense extension of this palm, which, probably, is nearly related to the Borassus flabelliformis, through the whole breadth of Central Africa, from Kordofán to the Atlantic, is of the highest importance.

While resting here I received a deputation of the heads of families of the Fúlbe, who behaved very decently, and were not a little excited by the performances of my watch and compass. I then determined to ascend the rock, which commands and characterises the village, although, being fully aware of the debilitated state of my health, I was somewhat afraid of any great bodily exertion. It was certainly not an easy task, as the crags were extremely steep, but it was well worth the trouble, although the view over an immense expanse of country was greatly interrupted by the many small trees and bushes which are shooting out between the granite blocks.

After I had finished taking angles I sat down on this magnificent rocky throne, and several of the natives having followed me, I wrote from their dictation a short vocabulary of their language, which they call “Záni,” and which I soon found was intimately related to that of the Marghí. These poor creatures seeing, probably for the first time, that a stranger took real interest in them, were extremely delighted in hearing their words pronounced by one whom they thought almost as much above them as their god “féte,” and frequently corrected each other when there was a doubt about the meaning of the word. The rock became continually more and more animated, and it was not long before two young Fúlbe girls also, who from the first had cast a kindly eye upon me, came jumping up to me, accompanied by an elder married sister. One of these girls was about fifteen, the other about eight or nine years of age. They were decently dressed as Mohammedans, in shirts covering the bosom, while the pagans, although they had dressed for the occasion, wore nothing but a narrow strip of leather passed between the legs, and fastened round the loins, with a large leaf attached to it from behind; the women were, besides, ornamented with the “kadáma,” which is the same as the seghéum of the Marghí, and worn in the same way, stuck through the under lip, but a little larger. Their prevailing complexion was a yellowish-red, like that of the Marghí, with whom, a few centuries ago, they evidently formed one nation. Their worship, also, is nearly the same.

At length I left my elevated situation, and with a good deal of trouble succeeded in getting down again; but the tranquillity which I had before enjoyed was now gone, and not a moment was I left alone. All these poor creatures wanted to have my blessing; and there was particularly an old blacksmith, who, although he had become a proselyte to Islám, pestered me extremely with his entreaties to benefit him by word and prayer. They went so far as to do me the honour, which I of course declined, of identifying me with their god “féte,” who, they thought, might have come to spend a day with them, to make them forget their oppression and misfortunes. The pagans, however, at length left me when night came on, but the Fúlbe girls would not go, or if they left me for a moment, immediately returned, and so stayed till midnight. The eldest of the unmarried girls made me a direct proposal of marriage, and I consoled her by stating that I should have been happy to accept her offer if it were my intention to reside in the country. The manners of people who live in these retired spots, shut out from the rest of the world, are necessarily very simple and unaffected; and this poor girl had certainly reason to look out for a husband, as at fifteen she was as far beyond her first bloom as a lady of twenty-five in Europe.

Friday, June 13.—Taking leave of these good people, the girl looking rather sorrowful as I mounted my horse, we resumed our march the following morning, first through cornfields,—the grain here cultivated being exclusively géro or Pennisetum,—then over rich and thinly wooded pastures, having the mountain-chain of the “Fálibé” constantly at some distance. The atmosphere was extremely humid, and rain-clouds hung upon the mountains. Further on the ground consisted entirely of red loam, and was so torn up by the rain, that we had great difficulty and delay in leading the camels round the gaps and ravines. Dense underwood now at times prevailed, and a bush called “baubaw,” producing an edible fruit, here first fell under my observation; there was also another bulbous plant, which I had not observed before. The karáge here, again, was very common. Gradually the whole country became one continuous wilderness, with the surface greatly undulating, and almost hilly; and here we passed a slave village, or “rúmde,” in ruins, the clay-walls being all that remained.

The country wore a more cheerful appearance after nine o’clock, when we entered on a wide extent of cultivated ground, the crops standing beautifully in the fields, and the village or villages of Segéro appearing higher up on the slope of the heights, in a commanding situation. Segéro consists of two villages separated by a ravine, or hollow with a watercourse, the northernmost of them, to which we came first, being inhabited jointly by the conquering tribe of the Fúlbe and the conquered one of the Holma, while the southern village is exclusively occupied by the ruling race. To this group we directed our steps, passing close by the former, where I made a hasty sketch of the outlines of Mount Holma.

The lámido, or mayor, being absent at the time, we dismounted under the public shade in front of his house, till a comfortable spacious shed in the inner courtyard of his dwelling was placed at my disposal; and here I began immediately to employ my leisure hours in the study of the Fulfúlde, as I became fully aware that the knowledge of this language was essential to my plans, if I wished to draw all possible advantage from my proceedings. For these simple people, who do not travel, but reside all their life long in their secluded homes, with the exception of a few predatory expeditions against the pagans, know no other language than their own; several of them, however, understand the written Arabic tolerably well, but are unable to speak it. Meanwhile, a large basketful of ground-nuts, in the double shell, just as they came from the ground, was placed before us; and after a while, three immense calabashes of a thick soup, or porridge, made of the same material, were brought in for the refreshment of our whole troop.

Ground-nuts form here a very large proportion of the food of the people, just in the same proportion as potatoes do in Europe, and the crops of corn having failed the last year, the people had very little besides. Ground-nuts, that is to say the species of them which is called “kolche” in Kanúri, and “biríji” in Fulfúlde, which was the one grown here, as it seems, exclusively, I like very much, especially if roasted, for nibbling after supper, or even as a substitute for breakfast on the road, but I should not like to subsist upon them. In fact, I was scarcely able to swallow a few spoonfuls of this sort of porridge, which was not seasoned with honey; but I must confess that the spoons, which the people here use for such purposes, are rather large, being something like a scoop, and made likewise of a kind of gourd; the half of the Cucurbita lagenaria split in two, so that the handle at the same time forms a small channel, and may be used as a spout. Nature in these countries has provided everything; dishes, bottles, and drinking-vessels are growing on the trees, rice in the forest, and the soil without any labour produces grain. The porridge can certainly be made more palatable by seasoning; and, if boiled with milk, is by no means disagreeable. The other kind of ground-nut, the “gángala,” or “yerkúrga,” which is far more oily, and which I did not see at all in Ádamáwa, I do not like; though the people used to say that it is much more wholesome than the other kind. For making oil it is evidently the more valuable of the two. I will only add, that on this occasion I learned that the Fúlbe in this part of the country make also a similar porridge of sesamum, which they call “marasíri,” and even of the habb el ʿazíz, or the gojíya of the Háusa—the nebú of the Bórnu people. Sesamum I have frequently eaten in Negroland as a paste, or hasty pudding, but never in the form of a porridge.

The reason why the corn had failed was, that most of the men had gone to the war last year; the turbulent state of the country thus operating as a great drawback upon the cultivation of the ground. I must also observe how peculiarly the different qualities of the soil in neighbouring districts are adapted for different species of grain; while in Mbutúdi, as I said, millet, géro, or Pennisetum typhoïdeum, was cultivated almost exclusively, here it was the dáwa, “báiri” in Fulfúlde, or sorghum, and principally the red sort, or “báiri bodéri.” Having restored our vital strength with this famous pap of ground-nuts, and having filled our pockets, and the nose-bags of the horses too, with the remains of the great basket, we set out again on our journey in the afternoon, for it appeared to me evident that none of my companions was fond of a strict ground-nut diet, and hence would rather risk a storm than a supper of this same dish. It had become our general rule to finish our day’s journey in the forenoon, as the tempest generally set in in the afternoon.

The fields were well cultivated; but the corn on the more elevated spots stood not more than a foot high. The ground-nuts are cultivated between the corn, the regular spaces which are left between each stalk being sufficient for growing a cluster of nuts underground; just in the same way as beans are cultivated in many parts of Negroland. The fields were beautifully shaded and adorned by the butter-tree, “tóso,” or, as the Fúlbe call it, “kárehi,” in the plural form “karéji,” which was here the exclusively predominant tree, and of course is greatly valued by the natives. Everywhere the people were busy in the fields; and altogether the country, enclosed by several beautifully shaped mountain ranges and by detached mountains, presented a most cheerful sight, all the patches of grass being diversified and embellished with a kind of violet-coloured lily.

We now gradually approached the foot of Mount Holma, behind which another mountain began to rise into view; while on our left we passed a small “rúmde,” or slave-village, and then entered a sort of defile. We were greatly afraid lest we should be punished for the gastronomic transgression of our travelling rule, as a storm threatened us from behind; but we had time to reach Badaníjo in safety. Punished, however, we were, like the man who despised his peas; for, instead of finding here full bowls of pudding, we could not even procure the poor ground-nuts; and happy was he who had not neglected to fill his pockets from the full basket in Segéro.

We had the utmost difficulty in buying a very small quantity of grain for the horses; so that they also came in for a share in the remains of the ground-nuts of Segéro; and my host especially was such a shabby, inhospitable fellow, that it was painful to speak a word to him. However, it seemed that he had reason to complain, having been treated very harshly by oppressive officers, and having lost all his cattle by disease. Not a drop of milk was to be got in the village, all the cattle having died. The cattle, at least those of the large breed, which apparently has been introduced into the country by the Fúlbe, seem not yet quite acclimatized, and are occasionally decimated by disease.

Badaníjo is very picturesquely situated in a beautiful irregularly shaped valley, surrounded on all sides by mountains, which are seen from the interior of the valley. The scarcity of provisions was entirely due to the great expedition of last year, which had taken away all hands from the labours of the field; for the land around here is extremely fertile, and at present, besides sorghum or holcus, produced dánkali, or sweet potatoes, góza, or yams, manioc, and a great quantity of gunna, a large variety of calabash (Fueillea trilobata, Cucurbita maxima?). Badaníjo is also interesting and important to the ethnologist, as being the northernmost seat of the extensive tribe of the Falí, or Farí, which, according to the specimens of its language which I was able to collect, is entirely distinct from the tribe of the Bátta and their kinsmen the Záni and Marghí, and seems to have only a remote affinity with the Wándalá and Gámerghú languages. At present the village is principally, but not exclusively, inhabited by the ruling race, and I estimated the population at about three thousand.

Saturday, June 14.—After we had left the rich vegetation which surrounds the village, we soon entered a wild and hilly district, and while passing over the spur of a rocky eminence on our left, observed close to the brink of the cliffs overhanging our heads the huts of the pagan village Búggela, and heard the voices of the natives, while at some distance on our right detached hills, all of which seemed to consist of granite, rose from the rugged and thickly wooded plain. The rugged nature of this country increases the importance of Badaníjo in a strategical point of view. The country became continually more rocky and rugged, and there was scarcely a narrow path leading through the thick underwood, so that my friend the pilgrim from Mélle, who rode his tall camel, had the greatest possible trouble to make his way through; however, I had reason to admire his dexterity. All through Negroland, where so many extensive tracts are covered with forest, travelling on camel’s back is very troublesome. It was certainly very lucky for us that for the last five days scarcely any rain had fallen, otherwise the path would have been extremely difficult.

However, when we reached the village Kurúlu, the country improved, spreading out into wide pastures and cultivated fields, although it remained hilly and rather rugged; even close to the village a lower range appeared, and granite masses projected everywhere. A short distance further on I sketched Mount Kurúlu and the heights near it.

Several of our party had gone into the village, and obtained some cold paste, made of a peculiar species of sorghum, of entirely red colour. This red grain, “ja-n-dáwa,” or “báiri bodéri,” which I have already had occasion to mention, is very common in the southern parts of Negroland, below the tenth degree of latitude, and in some districts, as in the Músgu country, seems to prevail almost exclusively; but it was at the time new to me, and I found it extremely nauseous. The paste of white durra, “fári-n-dáwa,” or “báiri dhannéri,” is generally so well cooked in Ádamáwa, being formed into large rolls of four inches in length, and from two to three inches thick in the middle, that even when cold it is quite eatable, and in this state generally formed my breakfast on the road; for my palatable chébchebé from Kúkawa, like all nice things in the world, were soon gone.

Gradually we entered another rugged wilderness, from which we did not emerge till a quarter before ten o’clock, when a máriná, or dyeing-place, indicated the neighbourhood of a centre of civilization unusual in this country. A few minutes more, and we reached the northern village of Saráwu, which is inhabited almost exclusively by Bórnu people, and is therefore called Saráwu Beréberé. On the side from which we arrived the village is open, and does not seem to be thickly inhabited, but further to the south the population is denser. Having halted some time on a small open space in the middle of the village in the shade of a small terebinth, we were conducted into very excellent quarters, which seem to deserve a short description.

It was a group of three huts, situated in the midst of a very spacious outer yard, which was surrounded by a light fence of corn-stalks. The huts consisted of clay walls with a thatched roof of very careful workmanship, and were joined together by clay walls. The most spacious of these huts (a), of about twelve feet in diameter, formed the entrance-hall and the parlour, being furnished with two doors or openings, one on the side of the outer, and the other on the side of the inner courtyard, from which the two other huts (b and c), destined for the women, had their only access. The outer opening or door of the chief hut (a), therefore, although rather small according to our ideas, was very large considering the general custom of the country, measuring three feet and a half in height, and sixteen inches in the widest part, its form being that of an egg.

In this hut there was only one very large couch measuring seven feet and a half in length by five in width, and raised three feet above the floor, made of clay over a frame of wood, on the right side of the door, where the landlord used to receive his guests, the remaining part of the hut being empty, and capable of receiving a good many people. Between the couch and the door there was a fireplace, or fúgodí, or fúgo kánnurám in Kanúri, “hobbunírde” in Fulfúlde, formed by three stones of the same size. Of this airy room I myself took possession, spreading my carpet upon the raised platform, while the Mʿallem, my servants, and whosoever paid me a visit, found a place on the floor. The wall, which was rather thicker than usual, was all coloured with a reddish-brown tint, and upon this ground several objects had been so unartistically delineated, that, with the exception of wooden tablets, “alló,” such as the boys here use in learning to write, it was impossible to tell what they were intended for.

The hut opposite this parlour (b), which was smaller than (a) but larger than (c), seemed intended for the ordinary dwelling of the landlady, being ornamented in the background with the “gángar,” as it is called in Kanúri, “nanne” in Fulfúlde, a raised platform or sideboard for the cooking utensils; here four large-sized new jars were placed, as in battle array, surmounted by smaller ones. With regard to the other arrangements the two huts were of similar construction, having on each side a couch, one for the man and the other for his wife. In both the woman’s couch was the better one, being formed of clay on a wooden frame, and well protected from prying eyes by a thin clay wall, about five feet high, and handsomely ornamented in the following way: running not only along the side of the door, but enclosing also half of the other side, it excluded all impertinent curiosity; while the man’s couch, which was less regular and comfortable, reached to the very border of the door, and on this side had the protection only of a thin clay wall, without ornaments. With the privacy thus attained, the size of the doors was in entire harmony, being of an oval shape, and very small, particularly in (c), measuring only about two feet in height, and ten inches in width, a size which I am afraid would refuse a passage to many a European lady; indeed, it might seem rather intended to keep a married lady within doors, after she had first contrived to get in.

Notwithstanding the scanty light falling into the interior of the hut, through the narrow doorway, it was also painted, (c) in this respect surpassing its sister hut in the harmony of its colours, which formed broad alternate bands of white and brown, and gave the whole a very stately and finished character. The whole arrangement of these two huts bore distinct testimony to a greatly developed sense of domestic comfort. In the wall of the courtyard, between (b) and (c), there was a small backdoor, raised above the ground, and of diminutive size (f), apparently intended for admitting female visitors, without obliging them to pass through the parlour, and at the same time showing much confidence in the discretion of the female department. In the courtyard were two large-sized jars, (g) the larger one being the bázam or corn-jar, and the smaller (d) the gébam or water-jar. In the corner, formed between the hut (a) and the wall of the courtyard, was the “fúgodí,” or kitchen, on a small scale.

The house belonged to a private man, who was absent at the time. From the outer courtyard, which, as I have observed, was spacious, and fenced only with corn-stalks, there was an interesting panorama over a great extent of country to the south, and I was enabled to take a great many angles. From this place also I made the sketch of a cone (page 442) which seemed to me very picturesque, but the exact name of which I could not learn.

Saráwu is the most elevated place on the latter part of this route, although the highest point of the water-partition, between the basin of the Tsád and that of the so-called Niger, as I stated before, seems to be at the pass north of Úba. The difference between the state of the corn here and in Múbi and thereabout was very remarkable. The crop stood here scarcely a few inches above the ground.[57] The soil also around the place is not rich, the mould being thin upon the surface of the granite, which in many places lies bare. The situation of Saráwu is very important on account of its being the point where the road from Logón and all the north-eastern part of Ádamáwa, which includes some very considerable centres of industry and commerce, particularly Fátawel, the entrepôt of all the ivory trade in these quarters, joins the direct road from Kúkawa to the capital. Cotton is cultivated here to some extent. Ádamáwa is a promising country of colonies.

Saráwu, too, was suffering from dearth from the same reason which I have explained above; the second crop, which is destined to provide for the last and most pressing period, while the new crop is ripening, not having been sown at all last year on account of the expedition, so that we had great difficulty in obtaining the necessary corn for our five horses. It would, however, have been very easy for me to obtain a sufficient supply if I had demanded a small fee for my medical assistance, as I had a good many patients who came to me for remedies; but this I refrained from doing. I had here some very singular cases, which rather exceeded my skill; and among others there was a woman who had gone with child full two years, without any effort on the part of her imaginary offspring to come forth, and who came to me now with full confidence that the far-famed stranger would be able to help her to motherhood. Among the people who visited me there was also a Tébu, or rather Tedá, who in his mercantile rambles had penetrated to this spot; indeed these people are very enterprising, but in general their journeys lie more in the direction of Wándalá, where they dispose of a great quantity of glass beads. This man had resided here some time, but was not able to give me much information. He, however, excited my curiosity with regard to two white women, whom I was to see in Yóla, brought there from the southern regions of Ádamáwa, and who he assured me were at least as white as myself. But, after all, this was not saying much; for my arms and face at that time were certainly some shades darker than the darkest Spaniard or Italian. I had heard already several people speak of these women, and the natives had almost made them the subject of a romance, spreading the rumour that my object in going to Yóla was to get a white female companion. I shall have occasion to speak about a tribe of lighter colour than usual in the interior, not far from the coast of the Cameroons, and there can be no doubt about the fact. My short and uncomfortable stay in the capital of Ádamáwa deprived me of the opportunity of deciding with regard to the exact shade of these people’s complexion, but I think it is a yellowish-brown.

Sunday, June 15.—Having been busy in the morning writing Fulfúlde, I mounted my horse about ten o’clock, accompanied by Bíllama and Bú-Sʿad, in order to visit the market, which is held every Thursday and Sunday, on a little eminence at some distance from the Bórnu village, and close to the south-east side of Saráwu Fulfúlde, separated from the latter by a ravine. The market was furnished with thirty-five stalls made of bushes and mats, and was rather poorly attended. However, it must be taken into consideration, that during the season of field-labours all markets in Negroland are much less considerable than at other seasons of the year. There were a good many head of cattle for sale, while two oxen were slaughtered for provision, to be cut up and sold in small parcels. The chief articles besides were ground-nuts, butter, a small quantity of rice, salt, and soap. Soap, indeed, is a very important article in any country inhabited by Fúlbe, and it is prepared in every household; while very often, even in large places inhabited by other tribes, it is quite impossible to obtain this article, so essential for cleanliness. No native grain of any kind was in the market,—a proof of the great dearth which prevailed throughout the country. A few túrkedí were to be seen; and I myself introduced a specimen of this article, in order to obtain the currency of the country for buying small matters of necessity.

The standard of the market is the native cotton, woven, as it is, all over Negroland, in narrow strips called “léppi,” of about two inches and a quarter in width, though this varies greatly. Shells (“kurdí,” or “chéde”) have no currency. The smallest measure of cotton is the “nánandé,” measuring ten “drʿa” or “fóndudé” (sing. “fóndukí”), equal to four fathoms, “káme” or “nándudé” (sing. “nándukí”). Seven nánandé make one “dóra”—meaning a small shirt of extremely coarse workmanship, and scarcely to be used for dress; and from two to five dóra make one thób or “gaffaléul” of variable size and quality. The túrkedí which I introduced into the market, and which I had bought in Kanó for 1800 kurdí, was sold for a price equivalent to 2500 shells, which certainly is not a great profit, considering the danger of the road. However, it must be borne in mind that what I bought for 1800, a native certainly would have got for 1600, and would perhaps have sold for 2800 or more.

Having caused some disturbance to the usual quiet course of business in the market, I left Bú-Sʿad behind me to buy some articles which we wanted, and proceeded with my kashélla towards the ravine, and ascending the opposite bank, entered the straggling quarter of the Fúlbe, which, in a very remarkable manner, is adorned with a single specimen of the charming gónda-tree, or “dukúje” (the Carica papaya), and a single specimen of the gigiña or dugbi, the Hyphæna which I have frequently mentioned; at all events not more than these two specimens are seen rearing their tapering forms above the huts and fences. Then we directed our steps towards the dwelling of the governor, which impressed me by its magnificence when compared with the meanness of the cottages around. A very spacious oblong yard, surrounded with a high clay wall, encircled several apartments, the entrance being formed by a round cool hut of about twenty-five feet diameter, the clay walls of which, from the ground to the border of the thatched roof, measured about ten feet in height, and had two square doors of about eight feet in height, one towards the street, and the other on the inside,—altogether a splendid place in the hot season. Here, too, the floor was at present thickly strewn with pebbles.

But the master of this noble mansion was an unhappy blind man, who, leaning upon the shoulders of his servants, was led into the room by a mʿallem or módibo, one of the finest men I have seen in the country, and more like a European than a native of Negroland, tall and broad-shouldered, and remarkably amiable and benevolent. The governor himself, also, was remarkably tall and robust for a Púllo. The módibo, who spoke Arabic tolerably well and officiated as interpreter, had heard a good deal about me, and was most anxious to see those curious instruments which had been described to him; and as I wore the chronometer and compass constantly attached to my waist, I was able to satisfy his curiosity, which, in so learned a man, was less vain and more interesting than usual. But the poor blind governor felt rather uneasy because he could not see these wonders with his own eyes, and endeavoured to indemnify himself by listening to the ticking of the watch, and by touching the compass. But he was more disappointed still when I declared that I was unable to restore his sight, which after all the stories he had heard about me, he had thought me capable of doing; and I could only console him by begging him to trust in “Jaumiráwo” (the Lord on High). As, on setting out, I did not know that we were going to pay our respects to this man, I had no present to offer him except a pair of English scissors, and these of course, in his blindness, he was unable to value, though his companion found out immediately how excellent they were for cutting paper. The governor is far superior in power to his neighbours, and besides Saráwu, Kurúndel, or Korúlu, and Bíngel are subject to his government.

While recrossing the ravine on my return to Saráwu Beréberé, I observed with great delight a spring of water bubbling up from the soil, and forming a small pond—quite a new spectacle for me. After I had returned to my quarters I was so fortunate as to make a great bargain in cloves, which I now found out was the only article in request here. The Bórnu women seemed amazingly fond of them, and sold the nánandé of léppi for thirty cloves, when, seeing that they were very eager to buy, I raised the price of my merchandise, offering only twenty-five. I had also the luck to buy several fowls and sufficient corn for three horses, with a pair of scissors; and as my mʿallem Katúri had several old female friends in the village who sent him presents, we all had plenty to eat that day. But nevertheless my old friend the mʿallem was not content, but, in the consciousness of his own merits, picked a quarrel with me because I refused to write charms for the people, while they all came to me, as the wisest of our party; and had I done so, we might all have lived in the greatest luxury and abundance.

In the evening, while a storm was raging outside, Bíllama gave me a list of the most important persons in the capital of the country which we were now fast approaching. Mohammed Láwl, the son of Mʿallem Ádama, has several full-grown brothers, who all figure occasionally as leaders of great expeditions, and also others of more tender age. The eldest of these is Bú-bakr (generally called Mʿallem Bágeri), who last year conducted the great expedition towards the north; next follows Aíjo; then Mʿallem Mansúr, a man whom Bíllama represented to me as of special importance for me, on account of his being the favourite of the people, and amicably disposed towards Bórnu, ʿOmáro, Zubéru, Hámidu. Of the other people, he represented to me as the most influential—Móde Hassan, the kádhi; Móde ʿAbdallahi, the secretary of state; and the Ardo Ghámmawa, as commander of the troops. As the most respectable Háusa people settled in Yóla, he named Káiga Hámma Serkí-n-Góber, Mai Konáma, Mágaji-n-Hadder, Mai Hadder, and Búwári (Bokhári). I introduce this notice, as it may prove useful in case of another expedition up the river Bénuwé.

Monday, June 16.—Starting at an early hour we passed the market-place, which to-day was deserted, and then left the Púllo town on one side. The country being elevated, and the path winding, we had every moment a new view of the mountains around us; and before we began to descend I made the accompanying sketch of the country behind us, stretching from N. 30 E. to E. 20 N.

The country continued rugged and rocky, though it was occasionally interrupted by cultivated ground, and a mountain group of interesting form, called Kónkel, stood out on our right.

Having entered at eight o’clock upon cultivated ground of great extent, we reached a quarter of an hour afterwards Bélem, the residence of Mʿallem Dalíli, a man whom I had heard much praised in Saráwu. Bíllama wished to spend the day here, but I was very anxious to proceed, as we had already lost the preceding day; but at the same time I desired to make the acquaintance of, and to pay my respects to, a person whom every one praised for his excellent qualities. I therefore sent forward the camels with the men on foot, while I myself entered the village with the horsemen. Crossing a densely inhabited quarter, we found the mʿallem sitting under a tree in his courtyard, a venerable and benevolent-looking old man, in a threadbare blue shirt and a green “báki-n-záki.” We had scarcely paid our respects to him, and he had asked a few general questions in Arabic, when an Arab adventurer from Jedda, with the title of sheríf, who had roved a good deal about the world, made his appearance, and was very inquisitive to know the motives which had carried me into this remote country; and Bú-Sʿad thought it prudent to pique his curiosity, by telling him that we had come to search for the gold and silver in the mountains. Old Mʿallem Dalíli soon after began to express himself to the effect that he should feel offended if I would not stay with him till the afternoon; and I was at length obliged to send for the camels, which had already gone on a good way.

A rather indifferent lodging being assigned to me, I took possession of the shade of a rími, or béntehi,—the bentang-tree of Mungo Park (Eriodendron Guineense), of rather small size, and there tried to resign myself quietly to the loss of another day, while in truth I burned with impatience to see the river which was the first and most important object of my journey. However, my quarters soon became more interesting to me, as I observed here several peculiarities of arrangement, which, while they were quite new to me, were most characteristic of the equatorial regions which I was approaching. For while in Bórnu and Háusa it is the general custom to expose the horses, even very fine ones, to all changes of the weather,—which on the whole are not very great,—in these regions, where the wet season is of far longer duration and the rains much heavier, it is not prudent to leave the animals unsheltered, and stables are built for them on purpose,—round spacious huts with unusually high clay walls; these are called “debbíru” by the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa, from the Háusa word “débbi.” Even for the cattle there was here a stable, but more airy, consisting only of a thatched roof supported by thick poles, and enclosed with a fence of thorny bushes.

The vegetation in the place was very rich, and an experienced botanist might have found many new species of plants, while to me the most remarkable circumstance was the quantity of Palma Christi scattered about the place, a single specimen of the gónda-tree, and the first specimen of a remarkable plant which I had not observed before on my travels,—a smooth soft stem about ten inches thick at the bottom, and shooting up to a height of about twenty-five feet, but drawn downwards and inclined by the weight and size of its leaves, which measured six feet in length and about twenty inches in breadth. The Háusa people gave it the name “alléluba,” a name generally given to quite a different tree which I have mentioned in speaking of Kanó. The plant bears some resemblance to the Musa, or banana; fruits or flowers it had none at present.

I had been roving about for some time when the sheríf, whom I mentioned above, came to pay me a visit, when I learned that he had come to this place by way of Wadáy and Logón, and that he had been staying here already twenty days, being engaged in building a warm bath for the mʿallem, as he had also done for the sultan of Wadáy.

The reader sees that these wandering Arabs are introducing civilization into the very heart of this continent, and it would not be amiss if they could all boast of such accomplishments; but this rarely happens. Even this very man was a remarkable example of these saintly adventurers so frequently met with in Negroland, but who begin to tire out the patience of the more enlightened princes of the country. He brought me a lump of native home-made soap, with which, as he said, I might “wash my clothes, as I came from the dirty, soapless country of Bórnu.” This present was not ill-selected, although I hope that the reader will not thence conclude that I was particularly dirty,—at least, not more so than an African traveller might be fairly expected to be. I had laid in a good store of cloves, which, as I have had already occasion to mention, are highly esteemed here, so I made him very happy by giving him about half-a-pound weight of them.

More interesting, however, to me than the visit of this wandering son of the East was the visit of two young native noblemen, sons of the Ardo Jídda, to whom belongs the country between Sugúr and Wándalá or Mándará, and the younger of whom was a remarkably handsome man, of slender form, light complexion, and a most agreeable expression of countenance. This, however, is a remark which I have often made on my travels, that the males among the Fúlbe are very handsome till they reach the age of about twenty years, when they gradually assume an apish expression of countenance, which entirely spoils the really Circassian features which they have in early life. As for the females, they preserve their beauty much longer. While these young men were giving unrestrained vent to their admiration of my things, the old mʿallem came with a numerous suite of attendants; whereupon they drew shyly back, and sat silently at a distance. In this part of the world there is a great respect for age.

The mʿallem and his companions were not only astonished at my instruments, but manifested much curiosity about the map of Africa, which I unfolded before their eyes, being greatly struck by the extent of the continent towards the south, of which they had previously no idea. I shall show in another part of this work how far the Fúlbe have become acquainted with the regions about the equator, and how a faint rumour of the strong pagan kingdom of Muropúwe has spread over the kingdoms of North Central Africa. Their esteem for me increased when I showed them my little Prayer-Book, which I wore in a red case slung round my shoulders, just as they wear their Kurán; indeed a Christian can never be more sure of acquiring the esteem of a Moslim—at least of a learned one—than when he shows himself impressed with the sentiments of his religion; but he must not be a zealous Roman Catholic, nor broach doctrines which seem to deny the Unity of God. He took great delight in hearing a psalm of the well-known “nebí Dáúd” (David) read in English. He, as well as almost all his companions, spoke Arabic; for, as Saráwu Beréberé is a colony of Bórnu people, Bélem is a pure Arabic colony, that is to say, a colony of the Sálamát, a tribe widely scattered over Bórnu and Wadáy. Mʿallem Óro, or, as he is popularly called, on account of his humility and devotedness, Mʿallem Dalíli, was born in Wadáy, but settled in Bórnu, from whence at the time of the conquest of the country by the Fúlbe or Felláta (in the year 1808) he fled to avoid famine and oppression, like so many other unfortunate inhabitants of that kingdom, and founded a village in this promising region. This is the country for colonies, and I do not see why a colony of the liberated slaves of Sierra Leone might not be advantageously established here. All these people wear indigo-coloured shirts, and in this manner, even by their dress, are distinguished from the Fúlbe. They are tolerated and protected, although a Púllo head man has his residence here, besides the mʿallem.

We were to start in the afternoon; but my stupid Fezzáni servant, Mohammed ben Habíb, had almost killed himself with eating immoderately of ground-nuts, and was so seriously ill that I was reduced to the alternative either of leaving him behind or waiting for him. Choosing the latter, I made a day of feasting for the whole of my little company, the mʿallem sending me a goat for my people, a couple of fowls for myself, and corn for my horses; besides which, I was so fortunate as to buy a supply of rice. In consideration of his hospitable treatment, I sent the old mʿallem a bit of camphor and a parcel of cloves. Camphor is a most precious thing in these regions, and highly esteemed by the nobler classes, and I cannot too strongly recommend a traveller to provide himself with a supply of it. It is obvious that a small quantity, if well kept, will last him a long time. He may find an opportunity of laying a man of first-rate importance under lasting obligations by a present of a small piece of camphor.

Tuesday, June 17.—We at length set out to continue our journey. The morning was beautifully fresh and cool after the last night’s storm, the sky was clear, and the country open and pleasant. A fine grassy plain, with many patches of cultivated ground, extended on our right to the very foot of Mount Kónkel, which as I now saw is connected by a lower ridge with Mount Holma. We passed the ruins of the village Bíngel, the inhabitants of which had transferred their settlement nearer to the foot of the mountains. Then followed forest, interrupted now and then by cornfields. My friends, the young sons of Ardo Jídda, accompanied me for full two hours on horseback, when they bade me a friendly farewell, receiving each of them, to his great delight, a stone-set ring, which I begged them to present to their ladies as a memorial of the Christian traveller. I now learnt that the young men were already mixing a good deal in politics; the younger brother, who was much the handsomer, and seemed to be also the more intelligent of the two, had till recently administered the government of his blind father’s province, but had been deposed on account of his friendly disposition towards Wándalá, having married a princess of that country, and the management of affairs had been transferred to his elder brother.

Forest and cultivated ground alternately succeeded each other; a little after nine o’clock we passed on our left a small “rúmde,” or slave-village, with ground-nuts and holcus in the fields, and most luxuriant pasture all around. The country evidently sloped southwards, and at a little distance beyond the village I observed the first watercourse, running decidedly in that direction; on its banks the corn stood already four feet high. The country now became quite open to the east and south, and everything indicated that we were approaching the great artery of the country which I was so anxious to behold. In the distance to the west a range of low hills was still observable, but was gradually receding. About ten o’clock we passed the site of a straggling but deserted village, called Melágo, the inhabitants of which had likewise exchanged their dwelling-place in this low level country for a more healthy one at the foot of the mountains, where there is another village called Kófa, homonymous with that in the Marghí country; for this district belongs to the country of the Bátta, a numerous tribe nearly related, as I have stated above, to the Marghí. All the ruins of the dwellings in Melágo were of clay, and the rumbú or rumbúje—the stacks of corn—were of a peculiar description; fine cornfields spread around and between the huts.

Having rested about noon for a little more than two hours on a rather damp and gloomy spot near a dirty pond, we continued our march, the country now assuming a very pleasant park-like appearance, clothed in the most beautiful green, at times broken by cornfields, where the corn—Pennisetum or géro—stood already five feet high. We soon had to deliberate on the very important question which way to take, as the road divided into two branches, the northern or western one leading by way of Búmánda, while the southern or eastern one went by way of Sulléri. Most of my companions were for the former road, which they represented as much nearer, and as I afterwards saw, with the very best reason; but fortunately the more gastronomic part of the caravan, headed by Bíllama, who was rather fond of good living, rejected Búmánda, as being inhabited by poor inhospitable pagans, and decided for the promising large dishes of Mohammedan Sulléri. This turned out to be a most fortunate circumstance for me, although the expectations of my friends were most sadly disappointed. For if we had followed the route by Búmánda, we should have crossed the Bénuwé lower down, and I should not have seen the “Tépe,” that most interesting and important locality, where the Bénuwé is joined by the Fáro, and swelled to that majestic river which is at least equal in magnitude to the Kwára. Of this circumstance I was then not aware, else I should have decided from the beginning for the route by Sulléri. Unfortunately, owing to my very short stay in the country, I cannot say exactly where Búmánda lies; but I should suppose that it is situated about ten miles lower down, at a short distance from the river, like the place of the same name near Hamárruwa,[58] and I think it must lie opposite to Yóla, so that a person who crosses the river at that place goes over directly to the capital, without touching either at Ribáwo, or at any of the neighbouring places.

Having, therefore, chosen the eastern road, we soon reached the broad, but at present dry sandy channel of the Máyo Tíyel, which runs in a south-westerly direction to join the Bénuwé; water was to be found close underneath the surface of the sand, and several women heavily laden with sets of calabashes, and belonging to a troop of travellers encamped on the eastern border of the watercourse, were busy in scooping a supply of most excellent water from a shallow hollow or “kénkenu.” The banks of the river, or rather torrent, were lined with luxuriant trees, amongst which I observed the dorówa or meráya (Parkia) in considerable numbers.

Forest and cultivated ground now succeeded alternately, till we reached a beautiful little lake called “gére[59] Páriyá” by the Bátta, and “barre-n-dáke” by the Fúlbe, at present about fourteen hundred yards long, and surrounded by tall grass, everywhere impressed with tracks of the hippopotami or “ngábba,” which emerge during the night from their watery abode to indulge here quietly in a rich pasturage. This is the usual camping-ground of expeditions which come this way. A little beyond this lake a path branched off from our road to the right, leading to Ródi, a place of the Bátta, whose villages, according to Mohámmedu’s statement, are all fortified with stockades, and situated in strong positions naturally protected by rocky mounts and ridges.

There had been a storm in the afternoon at some distance; but when the sun was setting, and just as we began to wind along a narrow path through a thick forest, a black tempest gathered over our heads. At length we reached the fields of Sulléri, and, having stumbled along them in the deepest darkness, illumined only at intervals by flashes of lightning, we entered the place and pushed our way through the narrow streets, looking round in vain for Íbrahíma, who had gone on to procure quarters.

To our great disappointment we found the house of the governor shut up; and notwithstanding our constant firing and knocking at the door, nobody came to open it, while the heavy clouds began to discharge their watery load over our heads. At length, driven to despair, we turned round, and by force entered his son’s house, which was situated opposite to his own. Here I took possession of one side of the spacious, clean, and cool entrance-hall, which was separated from the thoroughfare by a little balustrade raised above the floor. Spreading my mat and carpet upon the pebbles with which, as is the general custom here, it was strewn, I indulged in comfort and repose after the fatiguing day’s march, while outside the tempest, and inside the landlord, were raging; the latter being extremely angry with Bíllama on account of our forced entry. Not the slightest sign of hospitality was shown to us; and instead of regaling themselves with the expected luxurious dishes of Sulléri, my companions had to go supperless to bed, while the poor horses remained without anything to eat, and were drenched with the rain.

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XXXV. THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.—THE BÉNUWÉ AND FÁRO

Wednesday, June 18.—At an early hour we left the inhospitable place of Sulléri. It was a beautiful fresh morning, all nature being revived and enlivened by the last night’s storm. My companions, sullen and irritated, quarrelled among themselves on account of the selfish behaviour of Íbrahíma. As for me, I was cheerful in the extreme, and borne away by an enthusiastic and triumphant feeling; for to-day I was to see the river.

The neighbourhood of the water was first indicated by numbers of high ant-hills, which, as I shall have occasion to observe more fully in the course of my narrative, abound chiefly in the neighbourhood of rivers: they were here ranged in almost parallel lines, and afforded a very curious spectacle. We had just passed a small village or rúmde, where not a living soul was to be seen, the people having all gone forth to the labours of the field, when the lively Mohámmedu came running up to me, and exclaimed, “Gashí! gashí! dútsi-n-Alantíka kè nan” (“Look! look! that is Mount Alantíka”). I strained my eyes and saw, at a great distance to the south-west, a large but insulated mountain mass, rising abruptly on the east side, and forming a more gradual slope towards the west, while it exhibited a rather smooth and broad top, which certainly must be spacious, as it contains the estates of seven independent pagan chiefs. Judging from the distance, which was pretty well known to me, I estimated the height of the mountain at about eight thousand feet above the plain, or about nine thousand feet of absolute elevation; but it may be somewhat less.

Here there was still cultivated ground, exhibiting at present the finest crop of masr, called “bútalí” by the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa; but a little further on we entered upon a swampy plain (the savannas of Ádamáwa), overgrown with tall rank grass, and broken by many large hollows full of water, so that we were obliged to proceed with great caution. This whole plain is annually (two months later) entirely under water. However, in the middle of it, on a little rising ground which looks as if it were an artificial mound, lies a small village, the abode of the ferrymen of the Bénuwé, from whence the boys came running after us—slender, well-built lads, accustomed to fatigue and strengthened by daily bathing; the younger ones quite naked, the elder having a leathern apron girt round their loins. A quarter of an hour afterwards we stood on the bank of the Bénuwé.[60]

It happens but rarely that a traveller does not feel disappointed when he first actually beholds the principal features of a new country, of which his imagination has composed a picture from the description of the natives; but although I must admit that the shape and size of the Alantíka, as it rose in rounded lines from the flat level, did not exactly correspond with the idea which I had formed of it, the appearance of the river far exceeded my most lively expectations. None of my informants had promised me that I should just come upon it at that most interesting locality—the Tépe[61]—where the mightier river is joined by another of very considerable size, and that in this place I was to cross it. My arrival at this point, as I have stated before, was a most fortunate circumstance. As I looked from the bank over the scene before me, I was quite enchanted, although the whole country bore the character of a desolate wilderness; but there could scarcely be any great traces of human industry near the river, as, during its floods, it inundates the whole country on both sides. This is the general character of all the great rivers in these regions, except where they are encompassed by very steep banks.

The principal river, the Bénuwé, flowed here from east to west, in a broad and majestic course, through an entirely open country, from which only here and there detached mountains started forth. The banks on our side rose to twenty-five, and in some places to thirty feet, while just opposite to my station, behind a pointed headland of sand, the Fáro rushed forth, appearing from this point not much inferior to the principal river, and coming in a fine sweep from the south-east, where it disappeared in the plain, but was traced by me, in thought, upwards to the steep eastern foot of the Alantíka. The river, below the junction, keeping the direction of the principal branch, but making a slight bend to the north, ran along the northern foot of Mount Bágelé, and was there lost to the eye, but was followed in thought through the mountainous region of the Báchama and Zína to Hamárruwa, and thence along the industrious country of Korórofa, till it joined the great western river the Kwára or Niger, and, conjointly with it, ran towards the great ocean.

On the northern side of the river another detached mountain, Mount Taife, rose, and behind it the Bengo, with which Mount Fúro seemed connected, stretching out in a long line towards the north-west. The bank upon which we stood was entirely bare of trees, with the exception of a solitary and poor acacia, about one hundred paces further up the river, while on the opposite shore, along the Fáro and below the junction, some fine clusters of trees were faintly seen.

I looked long and silently upon the stream; it was one of the happiest moments in my life. Born on the bank of a large navigable river, in a commercial place of great energy and life, I had from my childhood a great predilection for river-scenery; and although plunged for many years in the too exclusive study of antiquity, I never lost this native instinct. As soon as I left home, and became the independent master of my actions, I began to combine travel with study, and to study while travelling, it being my greatest delight to trace running waters from their sources, and to see them grow into brooks, to follow the brooks, and see them become rivers, till they at last disappeared in the all-devouring ocean. I had wandered all around the Mediterranean, with its many gulfs, its beautiful peninsulas, its fertile islands—not hurried along by steam, but slowly wandering from place to place, following the traces of the settlements of the Greeks and Romans around this beautiful basin, once their terra incognita. And thus, when entering upon the adventurous career in which I subsequently engaged, it had been the object of my most lively desire to throw light upon the natural arteries and hydrographical network of the unknown regions of Central Africa. The great eastern branch of the Niger was the foremost to occupy my attention; and although for some time uncertain as to the identity of the river of Ádamáwa with that laid down in its lower course by Messrs. W. Allen, Laird, and Oldfield, I had long made up my mind on this point, thanks to the clear information received from my friend Ahmed bel Mejúb. I had now, with my own eyes, clearly established the direction and nature of this mighty river; and to an unprejudiced mind there could no longer be any doubt that this river joins the majestic watercourse explored by the gentlemen just mentioned.[62] Hence I cherish the well-founded conviction, that along this natural highroad European influence and commerce will penetrate into the very heart of the continent and abolish slavery, or rather those infamous slave-hunts and religious wars, destroying the natural germs of human happiness, which are spontaneously developed in the simple life of the pagans, and spreading devastation and desolation all around.

We descended towards the place of embarkation, which at this season of the year changes every week, or even more frequently. At present it was at the mouth of a small, deeply worn channel, or dry watercourse, descending from the swampy meadow-grounds towards the river, and filled with tall reed-grass and bushes. Here was the poor little naval arsenal of the Tépe, consisting of three canoes, two in good repair, and a third one in a state of decay, and unfit for service.

It was now that for the first time I saw these rude little shells, hollowed out of a single trunk—for the boats of the Búdduma are more artificial, being made of a number of boards joined together: and I soon began to eye these frail canoes with rather an anxious feeling, as I was about to trust myself and all my property to what seemed to offer very inadequate means of crossing with safety a large and deep river. They measured from twenty-five to thirty feet in length, and only from a foot to a foot and a half in height, and sixteen inches in width; and one of them was so crooked, that I could scarcely imagine how it could stem the strong current of the river.

On the river itself two canoes were plying; but, notwithstanding our repeated hallooing and firing, the canoemen would not come to our side of the river; perhaps they were afraid. Roving about along the bushy watercourse, I found an old canoe, which being made of two very large trunks joined together, had been incomparably more comfortable and spacious than the canoes now in use; although the joints being made with cordage just like the stitching of a shirt, and without pitching the holes, which were only stuffed with grass, necessarily allowed the water to penetrate continually into the boat; it, however, had the great advantage of not breaking if it ran upon a rock, being in a certain degree pliable. It was about thirty-five feet long, and twenty-six inches wide in the middle; but it was now out of repair, and was lying upside down. It was from this point, standing upon the bottom of the boat, that I made the sketch of this most interesting locality.

The canoemen still delaying to come, I could not resist the temptation of taking a river bath, a luxury which I had not enjoyed since bathing in the Eurymedon. The river is full of crocodiles; but there could be little danger from these animals after all our firing and the constant noise of so many people. I had not yet arrived at the conviction, that river-bathing is not good for a European in a tropical climate, but this was the first and last time that I bathed voluntarily, with a single exception, for when navigating the river of Logón on a fine day in March 1852, I could not help jumping overboard, and on my return from Bagírmi, in August 1853, I was obliged to do it.

The bed of the river, after the first foot and a half, sloped down very gradually, so that at the distance of thirty yards from the shore I had not more than three feet and a half of water, but then it suddenly became deep. The current was so strong, that I was unable to stem it; but my original strength, I must allow, was at the time already greatly reduced. The only advantage which I derived from this feat was that of learning that the river carries gold with it; for the people, as often as I dipped under water, cried out that I was searching for this metal, and when I came out of the water, were persuaded that I had obtained plenty of it. However, the river was already too full for investigating this matter further.

At length a canoe arrived, the largest of the two that were actually employed, and a long bargaining commenced with the eldest of the canoemen, a rather short and well-set lad. Of course, as the chief of the caravan, I had to pay for all, and, there being three camels and five horses to be carried over, it was certainly a difficult business. It cannot, therefore, be regarded as a proof of exorbitant demands, that I had to pay five “dóras,” a sum which in Kúkawa would buy two ox-loads of Indian corn. I allowed all the people to go before me, in order to prevent the canoemen from exacting something more from them.

There was considerable difficulty with my large camel-bags, which were far too large for the canoes, and which several times were in danger of being upset; for they were so unsteady that the people were obliged to kneel down on the bottom, and keep their equilibrium by holding with both hands on the sides of the boat. Fortunately I had laid my tent-poles at the bottom of the canoe, so that the water did not reach the luggage; but owing to the carelessness of the Hajji’s companions, all his books were wetted, to his utmost distress, but I saw him afterwards shedding tears while he was drying his deteriorated treasures on the sandy beach of the headland. The horses as they crossed, swimming by the sides of the canoe, had to undergo great fatigue; but desperate was the struggle of the camels, which were too obstinate to be guided by the frail vessels, and had to be pushed through alone, and could only be moved by the most severe beating; the camel of the Hajji was for a while given up in despair by the whole party. At length they were induced to cross the channel, the current carrying them down to a great distance, and our whole party arrived safe on the sandy beach of the headland, where there was not a bit of shade. This whole headland for two or three months every year is covered with water, although its chief part, which was overgrown with tall reed-grass, was at present about fifteen feet above the surface.

The river, where we crossed it, was, at the very least, eight hundred yards broad, and in its channel generally eleven feet deep, and was liable to rise, under ordinary circumstances, at least thirty, or even at times fifty feet higher. Its upper course at that time was known to me as far as the town of Géwe on the road to Logón; but further on I had only heard from the natives that it came from the south, or rather from the south-south-east.

It was a quarter before one o’clock when we left the beach in order to cross the second river, the Fáro, which is stated to come from Mount Lábul, about seven days’ march to the south. It was at present about six hundred yards broad, but generally not exceeding two feet in depth, although almost all my informants had stated to me that the Fáro was the principal river. The reason of this mistake was, I think, that they had never seen the two rivers at this place, but observed the Fáro near Gúrin, where, a little later in the season, it seems to be of an immense breadth, particularly if they crossed from Bundang; or they were swayed by the great length of the latter river, which they were acquainted with in its whole course, while none of them had followed the upper course of the Bénuwé.

Be this as it may, the current of the Fáro was extremely violent, far more so than of the Bénuwé, approaching, in my estimation, a rate of about five miles, while I would rate the former at about three and a half miles an hour, the current of the Fáro plainly indicating that the mountainous region whence it issued was at no great distance. In order to avoid the strongest part of the current, which swept along the southern shore, we kept close to a small island, which, however, at present could still be reached from this side with dry feet. We then entered upon low meadow-land, overgrown with tall reed-grass, which a month later is entirely inundated to such a depth that only the crowns of the tallest trees are seen rising above the water, of which they bore unmistakable traces, the highest line thus marked being about fifty feet above the present level of the river; for of course the inundation does not always reach the same height, but varies according to the greater or less abundance of the rains. The information of my companions, as well as the evident marks on the ground, left not the least doubt about the immense rise of these rivers.[63]

For a mile and a half from the present margin of the river, near a large and beautiful tamarind-tree, we ascended its outer bank, rising to the height of about thirty feet, the brink of which is not only generally reached by the immense inundation, but even sometimes overflowed, so that the people who cross it during the height of the inundation, leaving the canoes here, have still to make their way through deep water, covering this highest level.

My companions from Ádamáwa were almost unanimous in spontaneously representing the waters as preserving their highest level for forty days, which, according to their accounts, would extend from about the 20th of August till the end of September. This statement of mine, made not from my own experience, but from the information of the natives, has been slightly, but indeed very slightly, modified by the experience of those eminent men who, upon the reports which I forwarded of my discovery, were sent out by Her Majesty’s Government in the Pleiad and who succeeded in reaching the point down to which I had been able to delineate the course of the river with some degree of certainty. That the fall of the river at this point of the junction begins at the very end of September, has been exactly confirmed by these gentlemen, while with regard to the forty days they have not made any distinct observation, although there is evidence enough that they experienced something confirmatory of it.[64]

On leaving the outer bank of the river, our way led through a fine park-like plain, dotted with a few mimosas of middling size, and clear of underwood. The sides of the path were strewn with skeletons of horses, marking the line followed by the late expedition of the governor of Yóla, on its return from Lére, or the Mbána country. Having then entered upon cultivated ground, we reached the first cluster of huts of the large straggling village Chabajáure, or Chabajáule, situated in a most fertile and slightly undulating tract; and having kept along it for a little less than a mile and a half, we took up our quarters in a solitary and secluded cluster of huts, including a very spacious courtyard.

It was a sign of warm hospitality that, although the whole caravan had fallen to the charge of a single household, sufficient quantities not only of “nyíro,” the common dish of Indian corn, but even of meat, were brought to us in the evening. While passing the village, I had observed that all the corn on the fields was “geróri,” or Pennisetum (millet—dukhn), a kind of grain originally, it would seem, so strange to the Fúlbe, that they have not even a word of their own for it, having only modified a little the Háusa word “géro”; not a single blade of “baíri,” or sorghum, was to be seen. The scarcity was less felt here than in the northern districts of the country, and we bought some grain for our horses as a supply for the next day.

Thursday, June 19.—We started early in the morning, continuing along the straggling hamlets and rich cornfields of Chabajáule for a mile and a half; when we passed two slave villages, or “rúmde,” belonging to a rich Púllo, of the name of Hanúri. All the meadows were beautifully adorned with white violet-striped lilies. We then entered a wooded tract, ascending at the same time considerably on the hilly ground which juts out from the foot of Mount Bágelé, and which allowed us a clearer view of the geological character of the mountain. Having again emerged from the forest upon an open, cultivated, and populous district, we passed the large village of Dulí, and, having descended and reascended again we obtained a most beautiful view near the village Gúroré, which lies on rising ground, surrounded by a good many large monkey-bread-trees, or bodóje (sing. bokki). For from this elevated spot we enjoyed a prospect over the beautiful meadow-lands sloping gently down towards the river, which from this spot is not much more than five miles distant, taking its course between Mounts Bengo and Bágelé, and washing the foot of the latter, but not visible to us. The country continued beautiful and pleasant, and was here enlivened by numerous herds of cattle, while in the villages which we had passed I had seen none, as the Fúlbe drive their cattle frequently to very distant grazing grounds.

While marching along at a good pace, Mohámmedu walked up to me, and with a certain feeling of pride showed me his fields, “gashí gonakína.” Though a poor man, he was master of three slaves, a very small fortune in a conquered and newly colonized country, like Ádamáwa, based entirely upon slavery, where many individuals have each more than a thousand slaves. I was greatly surprised to see here a remarkable specimen of a bokki or monkey-bread-tree, branching off from the ground into three separate trunks; at least, I never remember to have seen anything like it, although the tree is the most common representative of the vegetable kingdom through the whole breadth of Central Africa. All the ground to the right of the path is inundated during the height of the flood.

We had now closely approached the Bágelé, the summit of which, though not very high, is generally enveloped in clouds, a fact which, when conveyed to me in the obscure language of the natives, had led me to the misconception, while writing in Kúkawa my report of the provisional information I had obtained of the country whither I was about to proceed, that this mountain was of volcanic character. It seems to consist chiefly of granite, and has a very rugged surface, strewn with great irregular blocks, from between which trees shoot up. Nevertheless, stretching out to a length of several miles from south-south-east to north-north-west, it contains a good many spots of arable land, which support eighteen little hamlets of independent pagans. These, protected by the inaccessible character of their strongholds, and their formidable double spears, have not only been able hitherto to repulse all the attacks which the proud Mohammedans, the centre of whose government is only a few miles distant, have made against them, but, descending from their haunts, commit almost daily depredations upon the cattle of their enemies.[65] One of their little hamlets, perched on the top of steep cliffs, we could plainly distinguish by the recently thatched roofs of the huts, the snow-white colour of which very conspicuously shone forth from the dark masses of the rock. The country was always gaining in interest as we advanced, the meadow-lands being covered with living creatures of every description, such as cattle, horses, asses, goats, and sheep, and we reached the easternmost cluster of huts of the large straggling village or district of Ribáwo or Ribágo,[66] stretching out on our left on a little rising ground. The district is not only rich in corn and pasturage, but also in fish, which are most plentiful in a large inlet or backwater, “illágul,” as it is called by the Fúlbe, branching off from the river along the north-east foot of the Bágelé, and closely approaching the village. In this shallow water the fish are easily caught.

Numbers of inquisitive people of every age and sex gathered round us from the neighbouring hamlets; but while hovering round me and the camels with great delight, they behaved very decently and quietly. They followed us till we took up our quarters a little before ten o’clock, with a friend of Bíllama’s, in a large group of huts lying close to the path, and shaded by most luxuriant trees. Although there were several clean huts, I preferred the cool and ventilated entrance hall of the same description as I have mentioned above, and remained here even during the night, although a most terrible storm, which broke out at six o’clock in the evening, and lasted full four hours, flooded the whole ground, and rendered my resting-place rather too cool. I would advise other travellers not to follow my example during the rainy season, but rather to make themselves comfortable in the warm interior of a well-protected hut.

In our last march through these rich low grounds, which are every year flooded by the river, I had not observed the least traces of the cultivation of rice, for which they seem to be so marvellously adapted, the cultivation round Ribágo being almost exclusively limited to maiwa or maiwári, a peculiar species of sorghum called “matëa” in Kanúri. On inquiring why these people did not grow rice, I learnt that the Fúlbe hereabouts had all migrated from Bórnu after the downfall of their jemmára and dominion in that country, when not only were the new political intruders repulsed, but even the old settlers, who had been established in that country from very ancient times, were obliged to emigrate. In Bórnu, however, as I have had occasion to mention before, no rice is cultivated, so that these people, although at present established in regions where rice would probably succeed much better than millet and Indian corn, abstain entirely from its cultivation. On the other hand, in the western parts of Adamáwa and in Hamárruwa, whither the Fúlbe had migrated from Háusa, rice is cultivated to a considerable extent. On a former occasion I have already touched on the question, whether rice be indigenous in Negroland or not. It has evidently been cultivated from time immemorial in the countries along the middle course of the Ísa, or Kwára, from Kébbi up to Gágho, or Gógó; but this might seem to be in consequence of a very ancient intercourse between those regions and Egypt, which I hope to be able to establish in the course of my narrative. It grows, however, wild in many parts, from the southern provinces of Bórnu, Bagírmi, and Wadáy, as far north as el Haúdh and Bághena, on the border of the western desert.

Another important point of which I here became aware was, that the Bátta language, which, among the numerous languages of Ádamáwa, or rather Fúmbiná, is the most extensively spoken, has two very different dialects; for, being anxious to finish my small vocabulary of this language, which I had commenced in Kúkawa with the assistance of Mohámmedu, I soon found that the dialect spoken here differed considerably from that of which I had previously written specimens. The Bátta language, as I have stated above, is intimately related to the Marghí and Záni idiom, and bears several points of resemblance to the Músgu language, which is itself related to the various dialects of Kótoko. All these languages have some general points of affinity to the South African languages.

At present, however, the indigenous population is almost totally extinct in this district, which is exclusively inhabited by the conquerors, who have here found an abode remarkably suited to their mode of living. The whole place has not less than six thousand inhabitants.

Friday, June 20.—We started early in order to reach the capital, if possible, before noon, and passed through several hamlets, all belonging to the extensive village or district of Ribágo, and interrupted here and there by projecting masses of schistose rock, while the concavity between this rising ground and Mount Bágelé was fast filling with the flood from the river, and presented already a considerable sheet of water. The country, after we had passed this populous district, became thickly wooded, which I had not expected to find so near the capital; and, on account of some ravines which intersect it, and of the neighbourhood of the inlet of the river, it certainly cannot afford a very easy passage towards the end of the rainy season. Here also the rock projects above the plain in many places.

About eight o’clock, when we had travelled round the south-western foot of Mount Bágelé, we passed through a number of small hamlets, which however did not exhibit any traces of cultivation, and then again entered upon a wild tract, while we obtained a glance at a picturesquely seated place before us, which I unhesitatingly took for Yóla, but which proved to be a small village situated at a considerable distance from the capital. Before we reached it, we had to cross a sheet of water nearly five feet deep, and called by my companions “Máyo Bínti,” which caused us a great deal of trouble and delay, and wetted almost all my luggage. The water, which at present had no current, skirts the foot of the rocky slope on which the village is situated, the name of which is Yebbórewó. Here our camels created an extraordinary interest, and a great many women, although we did not attend to their wish to stop, managed to pass under the bellies of these tall creatures, in the hope of obtaining their blessing, as they thought them sacred animals.

Having kept along the rising ground, and passed several little hamlets adorned with monkey-bread-trees, we had to cross very difficult swampy ground, which, a little later in the season, must be avoided by a long circuit. Two months later Mount Bágelé must look almost like an island, so surrounded is it on all sides by deep inlets and swamps. The detached cone of Mount Takabéllo, rising to a height of about a thousand feet above the plain, for some time formed a conspicuous object in front of us on our winding path, till at length, a little before noon, we reached the outskirts of the capital in a state of mind not exempt from anxious feeling.

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XXXVI. MY RECEPTION IN YÓLA.—SHORT STAY.—DISMISSAL

At length I had reached the capital of Ádamáwa, having had altogether a very lucky and successful journey; but now all depended upon the manner in which I should be received in this place: for although it was quite enough to have successfully penetrated so far, after having discovered and crossed the upper course of that large river, about the identity of which with the Chadda there could be little doubt, I entertained the hope that I might be allowed to penetrate further south, and investigate at least part of the basin of the river. I had heard so much about the fertile character of those regions, that I was intensely desirous to see something of them.

It was an unfavourable circumstance that we arrived on a Friday, and just during the heat of the day. The streets were almost deserted; and no person met us in order to impart to us, by a friendly welcome, a feeling of cheerfulness and confidence.

Yóla is a large open place, consisting, with a few exceptions, of conical huts surrounded by spacious courtyards, and even by cornfields, the houses of the governor and those of his brothers being alone built of clay. Keeping along the principal street, we continued our march for a mile and a quarter before we reached the house of the governor, which lies on the west side of a small open area, opposite the mosque, a flat oblong, building, or rather hall, enclosed with clay walls, and covered with a flat thatched roof a little inclined on one side. Having reached this place, my companions fired a salute, which, considering the nature of Bíllama’s mission, and the peculiar character of the governor, which this officer ought to have known, and perhaps also since it happened to be Friday, was not very judicious.

Be this as it may, the courtiers or attendants of the governor, attracted by the firing, came out one after another, and informed us that their master must go to the mosque to say his midday prayers[67] before he could attend to us or assign us quarters. We therefore dismounted and sat down in the scanty shade of a jéja or caoutchouc-tree, which adorns the place between the palace and the mosque, while a great number of people, amounting to several hundreds, gradually collected, all eager to salute me and shake hands with me. Fortunately, it was not long before Láwl came out of his palace and went into the mosque; and then I obtained a few moments’ respite, the people all following him, with the exception of the young ones, who very luckily found the camels a worthier object of their curiosity than me. It had been my intention to salute the governor when he was crossing the place, but I was advised not to do so, as it might interfere with his devotional feelings.

The prayer was short; and when it was over I was surrounded by much larger numbers than before, and, being fatigued and hungry, I felt greatly annoyed by the endless saluting and shaking of hands. At length we were ordered to take up our quarters in the house of Ardo Ghámmawa, a brother of our fellow-traveller Íbrahíma; but this being close to the east end of the town, we were not much pleased with the arrangement, as it not only obliged us for the moment to return the whole way we had come, but also for the future deprived us of an unreserved and friendly intercourse with the governor. This was not calculated to inspire us with confidence as to the success of our proceedings.

It was past two o’clock in the afternoon when at length I reached my quarters and took possession of a large, well-ventilated, and neat “záure,” or hall, the walls of which were all painted. In the inner courtyard there was also a very neat and snug little hut, but that was all, and we had great trouble in obtaining quarters for Bú-Sʿad and the Mʿallem in some of the neighbouring courtyards. I felt rather fatigued and not quite at my ease, and therefore could not much enjoy a dish of an extremely good pudding of bairi or sorghum, with excellent clear butter, and a large bowl of milk; but nevertheless, although a storm, accompanied with much rain, broke out in the evening and rendered the air rather humid, I remained the whole night where I was, instead of retiring into the well-protected though rather sultry hut.

Saturday, June 21.—In the morning I selected my presents for the governor, the principal part of which consisted of a very handsome red cloth bernús, which we had found among the things left by the late Mr. Richardson; but when we were ready to go we received the information that Láwl was in his fields, and that we could not see him. Meanwhile I received a visit from an Arab from the far-distant west, with whom I had made acquaintance in Kúkawa, and who had given me some very valuable information. It was el Mukhtár, of the tribe of the Idésan in Bághena, who had previously paid a visit to Ádamáwa, and was well acquainted with the country. It is always very pleasant for a traveller to meet another roving spirit somewhere again, particularly in a country like Central Africa. Having acknowledged his visit by the gift of a knife and a little frankincense, I presented our host, the Ardo Ghámmawa, with a fine “ríga gíwa” (an “elephant-shirt”)—that is to say, one of those enormous wide black shirts made only in Núpe, and which was one of the few articles which I had been able to provide in Kanó for the furtherance of my plans. The family of the Ardo had formerly been settled in Ghámmawa, in the south-western province of Bórnu, but, when the Fúlbe were driven back from that country, emigrated and settled here. But this man still bears the title “Ardo Ghámmawa”—“the mayor of (the Fúlbe community of) Ghámmawa.”

Having been told that the governor had returned to his palace, we mounted on horseback about ten o’clock, and, preceded by the Ardo Ghámmawa, returned the long way to the lamórde or palace; but after waiting on the damp ground, exposed to the sun for more than an hour, we were told that we could not see him, and were obliged to return with our present. I was greatly vexed, and felt, in consequence, my fever increasing, especially as another very heavy storm broke out in the afternoon, when the air became quite chilly. However, I was somewhat cheered by making acquaintance in the afternoon with an Arab from Mokha, of the name of Mohammed ben Áhmed, who styled himself sheríf, most probably rather pleonastically; but, apart from such pretension, he was an amiable and most interesting man, who had travelled for many years over the whole eastern coast of the continent between Mombása and Sofála. He was the first to satisfy my curiosity with a description of the celebrated Lake Nyassa as an eyewitness. He had even visited Bombay and Madras.

Sunday, June 22.—In consequence of the information received from Ardo Ghámmawa that to-day we were certainly to see the governor, we got ready at an early hour, taking with us also a present for his brother Mansúr, who had made himself expressly a candidate for a present, by sending me, the day before, a small pot of honey. While we were passing his house, he was coming out to pay his respects to his brother. We made a short halt and exchanged compliments with him; and when, on reaching the area before the governor’s house, we had dismounted and were sitting down in the shade of the tree, he walked most benignly and frankly up, and sat down in front of me. We then entered the palace; and having waited a short time in the segífa or záure, which here was formed by a spacious flat-roofed room supported by massive square pillars, we were called into the presence of the governor.

Mohammed Láwl, son of Mʿallem Ádama, was sitting in a separate hall, built of clay, and forming, for this country, quite a noble mansion. From without especially, it has a stately, castle-like appearance, while inside, the hall was rather encroached upon by quadrangular pillars two feet in diameter, which supported the roof, about sixteen feet high, and consisting of a rather heavy entablature of poles in order to withstand the violence of the rains. The governor was very simply dressed, and had nothing remarkable in his appearance, while his face, which was half covered by a somewhat dirty shawl, had an indifferent expression. Besides him there were none present but Mansúr and a mʿallem.

Having, as the first European that had ever visited his country with the distinct purpose to enter into friendly relations with him, paid him my respects on behalf of my countrymen, I delivered my letter of introduction from Sheikh ʿOmár, who in a few but well-chosen lines introduced me to him as a learned and pious Christian, who wandered about to admire the works of the Almighty Creator, and on this account cherished an ardent desire to visit also Adamáwa, of the wonders of which I had heard so much. Láwl read it, and, evidently not quite displeased with its contents, although he took umbrage at some of the expressions, handed it silently over to the mʿallem and Mansúr. Hereupon Bíllama delivered his letters, of which not only the contents, but even the very existence had been totally unknown to me. They were three in number, one from the sheikh himself, one from Malá Ibrám, the former possessor of the southern province of Bórnu, and one from Kashélla ʿAli Déndal, or Ladán, the officer who by his late predatory incursion had given grounds for complaint.

As soon as these various letters were read, all of which laid claim, on the side of Bórnu, to the territory of Kófa and Kóbchi, a storm arose, and in a fit of wrath Láwl reproached my companion with daring to come forward with such pretensions—he, who was himself well acquainted with the country and with the point in dispute. If Sheikh ʿOmár wished for discord, well: he was ready; and they would harass each other’s frontier-provinces by reciprocal incursions. Having given vent to his feelings towards Bíllama, his anger turned upon me; and he told me to my face that I had quite different reasons for coming into his country from those stated in Sheikh ʿOmár’s letter; referring to some ambiguous words in Malá Ibrám’s writing in which that officer stated “that, with regard to me, the objects of my journey to Ádamáwa were a perfect secret to him.” Now I must confess, after all my acquaintance with the politics of these people, and notwithstanding all Háj Beshír’s kindness and benevolence towards me, that I think the Bórnu diplomatists quite capable of a little double dealing; that is to say, I suspect that they were willing to make use of me to frighten the governor of Ádamáwa. Perhaps also they were afraid lest, if I should succeed in Ádamáwa, I might not return to their country. I shall have to mention similar circumstances on my journey to Bagírmi. Viewing matters in this light, I wrote from Kúkawa, requesting Her Majesty’s Government to inform the Sheikh of Bórnu that it was their distinct desire that we should penetrate onwards, and that he would confer an obligation upon them by facilitating the execution of our plans.

Be this as it may, after a long dispute with regard to the boundaries, in which my friend from Mokha, and a learned native of Wadáy, Móde ʿAbd Alláhi, who was employed by Láwl as a sort of secretary of state for foreign affairs, took part, I, with my party, was ordered to withdraw for a time. After sitting for full two hours on the damp ground outside, we received an intimation that we might return home. Thus I had to return with my presents a second time to my quarters; and of course I was greatly vexed. However, several people who saw my emotion endeavoured to console me; and Mansúr, who before we left came out of his brother’s audience-hall, entered into conversation with me, and assured me that this unkind treatment in no way related to me, but that it was only intended for Bíllama, the officer of Bórnu. There was present also the very amiable mʿallem whom I had met in Saráwu Fulfúlde, and who had come after us; and I felt sorry that I was not disposed to answer his well-meant discourse in the manner it deserved.

When we reached Mansúr’s house he invited us to dismount, and entering the interior of his wide and neat dwelling we had a long and animated conversation, when I explained to him in a deliberate manner that such treatment did not offend me on my own account, but on account of the Government—the very first and most powerful in the world—which had sent me; that instead of coming with hostile intentions, as was imputed to me, I had come with the friendly design of paying my respects to the governor on behalf of the British sovereign, and to present him with a few specimens of our products and manufactures; that I had, no doubt, at the same time an intense desire to see their country, as it was the avowed purpose of Europeans in general, and of the English in particular, to become acquainted, and to open intercourse, with all parts of God’s creation.

Mansúr explained to me, in return, that they well knew that I had not come to make war upon them, although Láwl, in the first fit of his anger, scarcely seemed to suspect anything less than that, “but that they were vexed because I had come to them under the protection of the Bórnu people, their enemies.” A letter from the Sultan of Stambúl, or even from my own sovereign, would have recommended me much more advantageously. The sheikh had expressly designated me as one recommended and protected by the Porte, and Bú-Sʿad had mentioned, with a slight disregard of the real facts, that through inadvertence only I had left both letters, as well that from the Sultan of Stambúl, as from the English sovereign, in Kúkawa. Now I certainly had with me a treaty written in Arabic, such as it was desirable that the governor of Ádamáwa should subscribe; but to produce this under existing circumstances would have been absurd, especially as it did not emanate directly from the Government, and was not authenticated, either by seal or in any other way, and I thought it better not to mention it. It was no bad policy on the part of Bú-Sʿad to represent me as sent on a special mission by the British Government to the Fúlbe princes, and as obliged only by the death of my companion to deviate from my intended course, in order to supply his place in Kúkawa.

Meanwhile it was past midday; and after a stormy night the sun shone forth with overpowering force, while we sat all the while in an open courtyard without the least protection. On reaching my quarters, I was so exhausted and ill that I thought I could do nothing better than take without delay a powerful emetic, after which I felt much better, but rather weak. Having somewhat restored my spirits by a conversation with Mohammed ben Áhmed, I retired into the close hut, and had a sound sleep.

Monday having passed quietly, with the exception of a great many people calling for “laiya” or charms, and for medicines, Tuesday the 24th arrived, when it was my destiny to leave this country, which I had but just entered, and to retrace my steps over the long and infested road which I had lately travelled.

I felt tolerably well in the morning, but afterwards became very ill, and unfortunately took too weak a dose of medicine. In this state I had a visit from two very handsome and amiable young Fúlbe, and in my rather morose mood refused their urgent request, made in the most simple and confidential way, to say the “fat-ha,” or the opening prayer of the Kurán, with them. I have always regretted my refusal, as it estranged from me a great many people; and although many Christians will object to repeat the prayer of another creed, yet the use of a prayer of so general an import as the introductory chapter to the Kurán ought to be permitted to every solitary traveller in these regions, in order to form a sort of conciliatory link between him and the natives.

After some other visitors had come and gone, I received, about ten o’clock, a formal visit from Móde ʿAbdalláhi, the foreign secretary, and my friend from Mokha, in the name of the governor. Having moistened their organs with a cup of coffee, they acquitted themselves of their message in the following terms: “The sultan”—all these provincial governors bear the title of sultan—“had ordered them,” they said, “to beg me to accept his most respectful regards, and to inform me that he was nothing but a slave of the sultan of Sókoto, and that I was a far greater man than himself. As such a man had never before come to his country, he was afraid of his liege lord, and begged me to retrace my steps whither I had come; but if in course of time I should return with a letter from Sókoto, he would receive me with open arms, would converse with me about all our science, and about our instruments, without reserve, and would show me the whole country.”

To this message, which was certainly couched in very modest and insinuating terms, I answered that Mohammed Láwl, so far from being a slave of the sultan of Sókoto, was renowned far and wide as the almost independent governor of a large province; that the fame of his father Ádama, as a nobly born, learned Púllo, extended far and wide throughout Tekrúr, or Negroland, and had even reached our own country; that it was absurd to argue that I was greater than himself, and that on this account he could not receive me on his own responsibility, but was obliged to refer my suit to his liege lord in Sókoto. I brought forward the examples of Kátsena and Kanó, especially the latter place, in which, though it was the seat of a governor dependent on the Emír el Múmenín, in the same way as the governor of Ádamáwa, I had long resided, without any representations being made to the sovereign lord. “Oh! but the relations of Kátsena and Kanó,” said the messengers of the governor, “are entirely different from those of this province. These are large and busy thoroughfares for all the world, while Ádamáwa is a distant territory in the remotest corner of the earth, and still a fresh unconsolidated conquest.” There was certainly some truth in this last remark; and whatever I might say to the contrary, the question was decided, and all reasoning was vain.

The two messengers having gone through their business in this way, informed me that they were only the forerunners of the real messenger, Mansúr, the brother of the governor. This was very pleasant news to me; and although, after this shock of disappointment, I felt extremely ill and weak, I rose from my couch, and went to receive Mansúr when he arrived at the door of the hut. He then officially, and in a very feeling manner, confirmed all that Móde ʿAbdalláhi and the sheríf Mohammed had said, and expressed his deep regret that I was not allowed to stay. When he was going, I handed to his servants the little present destined for him, which consisted of twenty-five drʿa of striped Manchester, a pair of English razors, scissors, a looking-glass, a parcel of cloves, a little jáwi, or benzoin, and a small piece of camphor.

Mansúr had been gone a little while when I received information that the governor had sent me a horse and two slaves as a present, with the intimation that I might likewise let him have the present which I had brought with me for him. But this I refused to do, declaring that I could not, under the present circumstances, either accept from him or give him anything, not having come as a merchant, to barter with him, but as the messenger of another powerful sovereign, to treat with him on friendly terms. My servant, Bú-Sʿad, who, in the covetousness of his heart, already fancied himself in the possession of the two slaves, whom he knew well I myself could not accept, but whom he thought I would give up to him, went so far as to declare that, as the present had come from my sovereign, I had no alternative but to bestow it. But seeing that I was firm, the messengers went away, and soon after a horseman arrived with the order for me to leave the town instantly.

Meanwhile, during all this negotiation and dispute, I had become extremely weak, and the excitement had brought on a very severe fit of fever. Indeed, I scarcely thought that I should be able to sit on horseback, and to bear the sun, it being then just noon, and the sun shining forth with great power. Nevertheless I got my things ready; but having left my quarters a little too soon, and being obliged to wait some time for the other people, I became so weak that I could no longer keep on my feet, but lay down on the ground till my companions arrived. Sitting then firmly in my large Arab stirrups, and holding on to the pommel, I proceeded; and though I fainted twice, I soon regained some strength, a slight breeze having arisen, which greatly mitigated the burning heat.

Numbers of people accompanied me, expressing their grief and sorrow at my abrupt departure. By my refusing to write laiya, or to say the fat-ha, I had estranged many a friendly disposed native, and by my obstinacy I had incurred the displeasure of their master; yet many of the people openly disapproved of his conduct towards me.

An immense quantity of rain having fallen during my stay here, the country appeared to me much more beautiful now than when we came, and full of fine cattle; and I felt so refreshed that I considered myself able to go as far as Ribágo, a ride of six hours, at a slow rate.

Bíllama behaved exceedingly well; for when my treacherous servant Bú-Sʿad, who was afraid lest Mohammed Láwl should wreak his anger upon me on the road, intimated to him that, “if anything of that sort should happen, they of course were Moslemín”—thus indicating that they could not defend me against those of their own creed, but should leave me to my fate,—he indignantly left his company, and rode up to me. Thus, without any accident, except that all my luggage was once more wetted through while passing the deep water of the Máyo Bínti, we reached the friendly village, where without ceremony I took up my quarters in the well-known courtyard of our former host. But, before proceeding further on my journey back, I must try to make the reader better acquainted with the country, though the abrupt way in which I was obliged to leave it allows me only, in most cases, to speak from the information of the natives.

Yóla is the capital of an extensive province, called by foreigners generally, and by the conquering Fúlbe in diplomatic language, Ádamáwa, but the real name of which is Fúmbiná. Indeed Ádamáwa is quite a new name given to the country (exactly as I stated in my report sent to Europe some years ago) in honour of Mʿallem Ádama, the father of the present governor, who succeeded in founding here a new Mohammedan empire on the ruins of several smaller pagan kingdoms, the most considerable of which was that of Kókomi. Whether what the people used to say be true, that the name of the wife of this officer was Ádama too, I am not able positively to decide.[68]

Yóla is quite a new settlement, called by this name after the princely quarter of the town of Kanó,—the former capital, of which Denham’s expedition heard some faint report, being Gúrin. Yóla is situated in a swampy plain, and is bordered on the north side by an inlet of the river, the inundation of which reaches close to that quarter where I was living. The town is certainly not less than three miles long from east to west. It seems probable that there are different names for the different quarters; but my stay was too short to allow me to learn them. The courtyards are large and spacious, but often contain only a single hut, the whole area being sown with grain during the rainy season. All the huts are built with clay walls, on account of the violence of the rains, and are tolerably high. Only the governor and his elder brothers possess large establishments, with dwellings built entirely of clay. Notwithstanding its size, the place can hardly contain more than twelve thousand inhabitants.

It has no industry; and the market, at least during the time of my stay there, was most insignificant and miserably supplied; but certainly during the season of field labours, as I have already had occasion to observe, all the markets in Negroland are less important than at other times of the year. The most common objects in the market, which find ready sale, are túrkedí, beads, and salt,[69] while other articles, such as striped Manchester, calico, cloth bernúses, are generally sold privately to the wealthier people. The only articles of export at present are slaves and ivory. Four good túrkedí, bought in Kanó for 1800 or 2000 kurdí each, will generally purchase a slave; and a túrkedí will often buy an elephant’s tusk of tolerable size.

Slavery exists on an immense scale in this country; and there are many private individuals who have more than a thousand slaves. In this respect the governor of the whole province is not the most powerful man, being outstripped by the governors of Chámba and Kóncha—for this reason, that Mohammed Láwl has all his slaves settled in rúmde or slave-villages, where they cultivate grain for his use or profit, while the above-mentioned officers, who obtain all their provision in corn from subjected pagan tribes, have their whole host of slaves constantly at their disposal; and I have been assured that some of the head slaves of these men have as many as a thousand slaves each under their command, with whom they undertake occasional expeditions for their masters. I have been assured also that Mohammed Láwl receives every year in tribute, besides horses and cattle, about five thousand slaves, though this seems a large number.

The country of Fúmbiná is about two hundred miles long in its greatest extent, running from south-west to north-east, while its shortest diameter seems to reach from north-west to south-east, and scarcely ever exceeds seventy or eighty miles; but this territory is as yet far from being entirely subjected to the Mohammedan conquerors, who in general are only in possession of detached settlements, while the intermediate country, particularly the more mountainous tracts, are still in the hands of the pagans. The people in this part of the country are engaged in constant warfare. While the country north from the Bénuwé, between Yóla and Hamárruwa, is entirely independent, and inhabited by warlike pagan tribes, the best-subjected tract seems to be that between the Wándalá and the Músgu country, where the settlements of the conquering tribe are very compact. I must observe, however, that I am not quite clear as to the exact manner in which those distant settlements are dependent on the governor of Ádamáwa. That part of the country seems to deserve a great deal of interest, and to be destined to become a province by itself. It is sometimes designated by the special name of “Jemmára,” a name certainly of general import, and meaning nothing but “the congregation”—a corruption, in short, of Jemmáʿa.

The country is certainly one of the finest of Central Africa, irrigated as it is by numerous rivers, among which the Bénuwé and the Fáro are the most important, and being diversified with hill and dale. In general, however, it is flat, rising gradually towards the south, from an elevation[70] of about eight hundred feet, along the middle course of the Bénuwé, to fifteen hundred feet or more, and broken by separate hills or more extensive groups of mountains; but, as far as I know, there is not here a single example of large mountain masses. Mount Alantíka, of which I had a fine view from several points, though at a considerable distance, is considered as the most massive and elevated mountain in the whole country; and this is an entirely detached mountain, at the utmost fifty miles in circumference, and elevated certainly not more than eight thousand five hundred or nine thousand feet above the plain from which it rises. No doubt the Bénuwé may be presumed to have its sources in a mountainous tract of country; but of the uppermost course of this river I was not able to obtain the least information, while I have been able to lay down its lower course with great approximative certainty.[71] Yet, although the elevation of the country is in general the same, the nature of the different districts varies greatly: thus in Chámba, apparently on account of the neighbourhood of Mount Alantíka, which attracts the clouds, the rainy season is said to set in as early as January, so that by the end of April or beginning of May the first crop is ripe, while in Yóla, and in the country in general, the rains rarely begin before March.

The grain most commonly grown in the country is Holcus sorghum; but in this respect also there is a great difference between the districts. Thus, the country of the Mbúm round Ngáundere scarcely produces anything but rógo, or yams, which form the daily, and almost sole food of the inhabitants. Meat is so dear there that a goat will often fetch the price of a female slave. Ground-nuts (Arachis hypogæa) are plentiful both in the eastern and the western districts. A tolerable quantity of cotton called “póttolo” in Ádamáwa, is cultivated: but indigo or “chachári” is very rare, and is hardly cultivated anywhere but in Saráwu and Máruwa; and this is very natural, as the Fúlbe do not value coloured shirts.

With regard to exuberance of vegetation, Tibáti seems to be one of the richest places; there both kinds of the banana, or ayabáje, the gónda, or papaya, “du-kúje,” several species of the gúro tree, the Pandanus, the Kajilia, the monkey-bread tree, or Adansonia, the “rími,” or Bombax, and numerous other kinds are found. Of the palm tribe, the deléb-palm, or gigiña, and the Elaïs Guineensis, are frequent, but strictly limited to certain localities, while the date-tree (called by the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa by the beautiful name “tannedaráje”[72]) is very rare, and, except a few specimens in Yóla and Búndang, scarcely to be met with. Among the bushes, the Palma Christi or Ricinus, is extremely common. Altogether, the predominant tree in the southern provinces of Ádamáwa seems to be the banana. There are hot springs in the country of the Bakr Yemyem, about three days’ south from Kóncha, which are said to issue from the west foot of a mountain stretching from east to west, and to have a very high temperature; the water is reported to be palatable.

Of animals, the elephant is exceedingly frequent, not only the black or grey, but also a yellow species. The rhinoceros is often met with, but only in the eastern part of the country. East from the Bénuwé the wild bull is very common. The most singular animal seems to be the ayú, which lives in the river, and in some respects resembles the seal;[73] it comes out of the river in the night, and feeds on the fresh grass growing on its banks.

With regard to domestic animals, cattle were evidently introduced by the Fúlbe some two or three hundred years ago. There is an indigenous variety of ox, but quite a distinct species, not three feet high, and of dark-grey colour; this is called máturú. The native horse is small and feeble; the best horses are brought from the northern districts, chiefly from Úba.

I now proceed to mention the names of the most powerful Fúlbe governors of the country, to which I shall subjoin a list of the native tribes, over which the conquerors are gradually extending their sway, and which they may even partially succeed in exterminating. Of those who are bound to the governor of Ádamáwa in due allegiance—that is to say, who send him a certain present and assist him in his warlike expeditions, the governors of Chámba and Kóncha take the first rank. The present governor of Chámba, Ámba (properly Mohammed) Sámbo, who is now a very old man, has made himself extremely famous by his daring and distant expeditions, and more especially that to the Íbo country and to Mbáfu, which he undertook three years ago, and through which he has succeeded in extending not only the influence, but even the dominion of the conquerors, in a certain degree, as far as the Bight of Benín. I have some reason to suspect that it was partly owing to this expedition, which brought the Fúlbe into contact with tribes on the coast, who, on account of their dress, furniture, and many of their customs, were regarded by them as Christians, that Mohammed Láwl looked upon my presence with distrust; for there were still some hundreds of slaves of those so-called Christian tribes scattered over Ádamáwa. Mohammed dan Jóbdi also, the governor of Kóncha, has made some very interesting expeditions, the itineraries of some of which I shall give in the Appendix.

More powerful certainly than these two, and in a state of quasi-dependence on the governor of Yóla only, though at present in open hostility with him, is Búba, the governor of Búbanjídda. The name of this province also is entirely new, and is formed in a very remarkable way, being compounded of the name of the conqueror himself (Búba) and of that of his mother (Jídda). Búbanjídda is an extensive province, including the districts on the upper course of the Bénuwé; and its capital is called Ray-Búba. The governor is so powerful that, having in vain solicited the Emír el Múmenín, his sovereign lord, to make him a chief vassal, like the governor of Hamárruwa, so as to be independent of the governor of Ádamáwa, he has placed himself in open opposition to both. It is also very remarkable that Ray-Búba (that is to say, the town which at present bears this name) was, with the exception of Tibáti, the only walled town which the Fúlbe found in the country; and it took them three months of continual fighting to get possession of it. I have already mentioned, in another place, that this country produces the best sort of iron; and it is not improbable that the more warlike spirit of its inhabitants, the Dáma, is in some degree connected with this circumstance.

Less powerful than the three governors just mentioned, but nevertheless mighty vassals, and most of them valiant champions of the faith, are the following chiefs: Bákari (properly Bú-Bakr), governor of Ribágo, north from Búbanjídda; Ardo Badéshi, governor of the territories of the Falí; Mʿallem Sudé, governor of Holma; Mʿallem Hámma, governor of Song; the governor of Súmmo;[74] Mahmúd, governor of Kílba; Mʿallem Dáuraka, governor of the large settlement of Máruwa or Marba; Mʿallem Yúsufa, the pious old governor of Bínder; Mʿallem Ádama, the dashing governor of Agúrma in the territory of the Dáma; Ardo ʿOmáro, seignior of Sabóngi, near Búbanjídda; Mʿallem Mústafa, the pious old lord of Míndif; Ardo Gári, the energetic and learned master of Bógo, whose people joined the Bórnu army on the expedition to Músgu which I shall describe later; the lord of Kafta-Báudi; Húrsu, or Khúrsu, master of Pédde or Fétte.

The dominion of the Fúlbe is generally centred in single settlements, which are of various descriptions, comprising not only large towns, where a numerous host of these intruders, and a powerful chief, reside, but also more private settlements, such as country seats of governors, “ribádo” or “ribágo”; seats of mere petty chiefs, or “jóro”; farm villages, or “úro”; slave villages, or “rúmde.” But the Fúlbe are continually advancing, as they have not to do with one strong enemy, but with a number of small tribes without any bond of union. It remains to be seen whether it be their destiny to colonize this fine country for themselves, or in the course of time to be disturbed by the intrusion of Europeans. It is difficult to describe how a Christian government is to deal with these countries, where none but Mohammedans maintain any sort of government. It cannot be denied that they alone here succeed in giving to distant regions a certain bond of unity, and in making the land more accessible to trade and intercourse.

The most numerous among the native tribes, as I have already stated above, are the Bátta, whose prince, Kókomi, was, previous to the conquest of the Fúlbe, the most powerful chief in the country. They are divided into several great families, speaking also various dialects, which in some cases differ from each other very widely, and are closely related to the Marghí. Many of the names of their districts serve to designate the territories as well as the tribes settled in them, of which several are still entirely independent of the Fúlbe.

The Bátta inhabit not only all the country on the middle course of the Bénuwé and along the Fáro for some distance beyond Mount Alantíka, but also the whole region north from these rivers as far as the southern boundaries of Bórnu. It is in their language that the river has received the name Bé-noë, or Bé-nuwé, meaning “the Mother of Waters.”

The tribe which ranks next in number and importance is the Falí, settled between the upper course of the Bénuwé and the southern provinces of Bagírmi, of whose families and territories (the same name generally indicating both) I learnt the following names: Safaláwa, Yamyam (probably not an original name), Gidér, Débba, Múndam, with the chief place Lére, the residence of the powerful pagan prince (kówa) Gónshomé, Mámbay, Dáma, Láme, Láka, Durú, Nánigi, not far east from Chámba, and Bóka. Their idiom seems to be quite distinct from that of the Bátta; but it shows some affinity with other neighbouring tongues.[75] Among the few people belonging to this tribe with whom I came into contact, I observed some of very light colour. Then follow the Mbúm, living to the south from the Bátta and south-west from the Falí, and partly subjected, the Fúlbe conquerors being principally established in the place called Ngáundere. There is another large place, called Bére. As separate divisions of the Mbúm, I learnt the names of the Máiwa, Wúna, and Buté. South-east from the Mbúm live the Yángeré, and still further on in that direction the Báya. In what relation the Chámba, after whom the large place at the southern foot of Mount Alantíka is called, stand to the above-named tribes, I cannot say. The Chámba are said to have driven from these seats the Kóttofo, who dwell at present further south. Then there are several other tribes, ranked by my informants as separate nations, the independence or relation of which to the rest I am not able to determine, as I have not obtained specimens of their languages. These are the Holma, the Zummáwa, the Gudá, the Kílba, Honá, Búza, the Bá, Múchelár, Hína, Búla, Múkubá,[76] all of whom live in the mountainous region to the south-west from Mount Míndif, and no doubt are partially cognate with other tribes; but in order to group them, it is necessary to collect specimens of their languages.

Around Ádamáwa, partly within, partly beyond its boundaries, but in a certain degree of subjection, are the following tribes: the Tikár (by this name, at least, they are called by the Fúlbe, though they have, probably, another name for themselves, as by this they do not seem to be known near the coast), the Yétem,[77] the Dókaka, the Batí, a tribe of rather light colour, the Dáka, the Wére, the Díngding (partly armed with muskets, and regarded by the Fúlbe as Christians), the Mbáfu. Then the Wága, the Yángur, and the Róba. With most of these tribes the reader will be brought into nearer contact by the itineraries subjoined in the Appendix, where I shall have occasion to add a few remarks with regard to information obtained by Europeans near the coast. Here, however, it will be not without interest to compare with this list of tribes the following list of languages spoken in Ádamáwa which Mohámmedu gave me: Battanchi,[78] Damanchi, the idiom spoken in the province of Búbanjídda; Falanchi, Bumanchi, or perhaps more correctly Mbumanchi, the language of the Mbúm and of the people of Báya; Butanchi, Tekarchi, Mundanchi, Marghanchi,[78] Kilbanchi, Yangurchi, Gudanchi, Chambanchi, Kotofanchi, Weranchi, Duranchi, Wokanchi, Toganchi, Lekamchi, Parparchi, Kankamchi, Nyangeyárechi, Musganchi,[78] Mandaranchi,[78] or rather “Ára Wándalá,” Gizaganchi, Rumanchi, Giderchi, Dabanchi, Hinanchi, Muturwanchi, Zinanchi, Zaninchi, Momoyëenchi, Faninchi, the idiom of Fani, the dominion of Hajji Ghálebu, Nyaganchi, Dewanchi, Lallanchi, Doganchi, Longodanchi.

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XXXVII. MY JOURNEY HOME FROM ÁDAMÁWA

Having made these few remarks with regard to the interesting work of conquest and colonization which is going on in Ádamáwa, I now return to my quarters in Ribágo, in order to carry the reader with me on my journey back from that country to Kúkawa.

Wednesday, June 25.—Our luggage had been so wetted on the preceding afternoon, while crossing the Máyo Bínti, that we were obliged to stay in Ribágo the whole morning, in order to dry it. The horseman who had escorted me out of the town had returned; and in his stead Íbrahíma, with a companion on foot, had made his appearance, with orders from the governor to escort me to the very frontiers of the country. In order to render him a more sociable companion, I thought it well to make him a present of a túrkedí. My mʿallem had not come along with us; and I could not be angry with him for not desiring to return to Kúkawa, where he had been detained against his will. The horse on which I had mounted him he had well deserved for his trouble. Íbrahíma told me that Katúri had come after me as far as Yébborewó, thinking that I would pass the night there, but that the governor would not let him go further.

Before starting in the afternoon, I made our landlady, the wife of the Ardo of Ribágo, very happy by a few presents, as an acknowledgment of her hospitality in having twice entertained us in her house. After a short march of a few miles, we took up our quarters for the night in Duló, where the landlord, who a few days ago had been deprived of his office of mayor, received us at first rather unkindly, but afterwards assigned me a splendid hut, where the ganga or large drum, the ensign of his former authority, was still hanging from the wall. I was greatly in want of rest, and was obliged to keep my head always wet, and to abstain entirely from food.

Thursday, June 26.—I thought we should certainly cross the Bénuwé to-day; but, as if in defiance of the governor of the country, Bíllama desired to move on as slowly as possible, and took us to our well-known quarters in Chabajáure. But this slow progress was certainly better for me, as I had this day arrived at a crisis, and was dreadfully weak. Taking small doses of quinine the whole of the afternoon, I strengthened myself for the next day’s work, when after five miles’ march we reached the Tépe.

Friday, June 27.—The Fáro had only risen a little more than twenty inches since the 18th—that is to say, two inches and a half per day; nevertheless we had great difficulty in fording it. The Bénuwé had risen more rapidly; and of course in July both rivers rise at a very different rate. When the rainy season is at its height, the sandy beach of the headland at the junction is almost completely under water; and this was the case with our old place of embarkation on the northern bank of the Bénuwé, so that I was obliged to creep up the steep bank.

In order to withstand the fatigue, I continued taking quinine the whole day long, and was glad when in the evening we reached Sulléri, where, to my astonishment, we were this time exceedingly well received. The mayor of the place would not allow me to start the following day, although my camels were already laden, and a beautiful fine morning invited us to travel. After a good deal of resistance, I at length gave way to his entreaties, under the condition that he would construct for me a cool shed wherein to spend the heat of the day; and in twenty minutes a lofty hall had risen from the earth. Thus I spent the day very comfortably; and although I was unable to alleviate the pains suffered by my host from an arrow-wound in one of his eyes, or to give him a charm to prevent the death of his cattle, I was so fortunate as to effect a splendid cure on one of his sons, which procured me great fame.

Saturday, June 28.—On leaving Sulléri in the morning, we took a different route from that previously traversed, and which proved infinitely more interesting, although in the morning, after we had passed a small farm-village where all the field-labourers were at work, we had to cross a very extensive forest, and I became greatly exhausted. Having passed about noon several villages, which proved to be all slave-villages with the exception of one, which contained a lord’s mansion of neat appearance, suddenly the character of the country changed entirely, and we came to a wide depression or hollow, from one hundred to one hundred and twenty feet deep, which, winding round on our left, formed a fine green vale, bordered on the other side by a picturesque cone[79] rising abruptly, and forming on the east side a wooded terrace, while on the west it displayed a steep bare rocky bank of horizontal strata, and on this side, after a small interruption, a low ridge attached to it encircling the hollow on all sides.

Having reached the south-eastern foot of the cone by a gradual ascent, we obtained a view over the varied and rich scenery before us, a luxuriant mass of vegetation broken at intervals by comfortable-looking little hamlets, and bounded in the distance by a cone stretching out to a great length. Having crossed a small watercourse, and wound along between erractic blocks of granite, scattered about in wild disorder, and interrupted, wherever the ground offered a small level, by rich crops of grain, we reached the first hamlet of this most picturesque locality. It is one of the chief seats of the Démsa, or rather comprises two distinct villages, namely, Démsa-Póha and Démsa-Mésu.

It was indeed a most charming sight when we made our way along a broad well-trodden path, surrounded on both sides by neatly fenced clusters of large huts, encompassed by waving corn and picturesque clusters of trees. Thus we reached the “lamórde,” the residence of the governor, which is situated at a short distance from the southern foot of the large granitic cone; but he was absent, having gone on an expedition against the Fúri, an independent pagan tribe in the neighbourhood, and we had to wait some time before his servants undertook to assign us quarters, when we had to retrace our steps to the southern part of the village. It was half-past four in the afternoon when, feverish and extremely weak as I was, I at length found rest, but while reclining at full length in a cool shade, I listened with delight to Íbrahíma’s chat, who, in order to cheer my spirits, gave me an account of that famous expedition to the far south which the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa undertook a few years ago, and to which I have already alluded.

This memorable campaign having proceeded from Búbanjídda, none of the people of Ádamáwa, whose acquaintance I was able to make during my short stay in the country, had participated in it, so that all the accounts which I received of it were extremely vague. The expedition, after a march of almost two months, is said to have reached an unbounded expanse of unbroken plain, and, having kept along it for a day or two, to have arrived at an immense tree, in the shade of which the whole host found sufficient room. Here they found two natives of the southern regions, who informed them that they were the subjects of a powerful queen that resided in a vast town of two days’ march in circumference. These people, they say, were of short stature, and wore long beards. Frightened by these reports, and by the waterless tract before them, the expedition retraced their steps. Similar reports with regard to a very powerful female sovereign towards the south are also current in Bagírmi and all the adjacent country; but I am not able to determine whether they originate in faint rumours, spread so far north, of the powerful kingdom of Muata-ya-Nvo, or—of Queen Victoria.

To my great satisfaction, we were obliged to stay here the next day, in order to await the arrival of the lámido, when, feeling greatly recruited by a good night’s and half-a-day’s rest, I crept out of my well-polished round little clay hut in the afternoon, and, crossing the neatly fenced promenade of the straggling village, ascended a neighbouring eminence formed by an irregular mass of granite blocks, to the north of our quarters. Here I spent two delicious hours in the tranquil contemplation of the picturesque scenery, which I thought the most interesting I had yet seen in this quarter of the world. The view I took presents but a very faint idea of its peculiar features; but I hope it will give some conception of the nature of this country in general, which enables the pagan natives between this district and Hamárruwa to defend their liberty and independence against the Mohammedan intruders. These tribes are, after the Démsa, who seem to form a tolerably numerous body, first, the Mbulá, probably the same who have given their name to the place situated at some distance from Mount Míndif, and mentioned above; then, further west, or north-west, the Báchama, and still further west the Tángalé, with both of whom Mr. Vogel, on his recent journey from Yákuba to Hamárruwa, has come in contact.

Tuesday, July 1.—We made a short but highly interesting march to the place of our old friend the Mʿallem Delíl. The scenery was rich and beautiful, the crops of Guinea-corn standing from four to five feet high, alternating with fields where góza, a kind of yams, were grown, and adorned with fine spreading trees, amongst which the tármu and the kúka or monkey-bread-tree predominated; even the rocky eminences were all overgrown with fresh vegetation. We then passed a sort of shallow river, or sél, which is called by the Kanúri “ngáljam,” and forms a characteristic feature of Démsa, while on our right it expanded to a conspicuous sheet of water, bordered by blocks and masses of rocks full of vegetation. It was overgrown with rank reed at the spot where we crossed it.

Only a few minutes beyond this almost stagnant water on green meadow-land, we crossed the broad and clear torrent of the Máyo Tíyel, rushing ahead over a gravelly bottom, and at times rolling along a considerable quantity of water. According to my guides, it is formed by three branches, one issuing from Báses towards the north-east, the other coming from the neighbourhood of Bélem, and the third from the north-west from Bíngel. Only a few hundred yards further on, we passed on our left another broad sheet of water, apparently of great depth, which is said to preserve the same level at all times of the year. It is full of crocodiles, and bordered by the richest vegetation, and, being apparently quite isolated, has a very curious appearance. Perhaps it is fed by subterranean sources. It is surrounded by beautiful pasture-grounds.

We then traversed a fine open country, passing some villages, while the road was enlivened by a troop of travellers (colonists from Bórnu), among whom there were some remarkably handsome women mounted on bullocks, who bore sufficient testimony to the fact that the more elevated districts of Ádamáwa are salubrious and favourable for man. We reached Bélem at about two o’clock; but before we arrived there a circumstance happened which I must not omit to mention, as it is rather characteristic: for suddenly two of Mohammed Láwl’s servants appeared with the horse which Bíllama had sold to the governor for the price of twenty slaves, returning it under some pretext, but in reality for no other reason than because he was afraid lest it might operate by way of charm, and injure him. Bíllama was to have received the slaves in the towns still before us.

We stayed in Bélem this day and the following; and I was pestered a little by the family of old Mʿallem Delíl, but particularly by his daughter, rather a handsome person, who had been divorced from her former husband (I think Mansúr, the younger brother of Mohammed Láwl), and wanted me by all means to write her a charm to get her another husband after her heart’s desire. She was a very passionate sort of woman, and when smelling, against my wish, from my phial of hartshorn, was seized with such violent convulsions, that she was carried senseless out of my tent, and remained in this state for nearly an hour. The stay here was the more disagreeable to me as it was caused partly by the trading propensities of my servant Bú-Sʿad; and not only did he buy ivory, which he had the insolence to add to the loads of my weak camels, but even three slaves, so that I was obliged to dismiss him instantly from my service, although I had nothing wherewith to pay him off. It is extremely difficult for a single European to proceed in these countries with hired servants, as he loses all control over them. This man, who had been the late Mr. Richardson’s servant as well as mine, turned out like Mukni, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter, a great slave-dealer, and in 1855, when I was leaving Central Africa, collected a numerous gang of slaves in this very country, which he had before visited as my servant.

Thursday, July 3.—We at length resumed our journey, but only to reach Saráwu Beréberé, where we took up our quarters in the comfortable courtyard which I have described on our outward journey. I will only record the pleasing fact, that, as soon as the news spread in the town of my having returned, a man whom I had cured of disease during my former stay brought me a handsome gazelle-skin as an acknowledgment.

The next day we followed our ancient road by Badaníjo, and reached Segéro; but on Saturday, after having passed Mbutúdi without any other delay than that of buying with beads a little milk from our Fúlbe friends, we took a more easterly path, which brought us to Múglebú, a village which exhibited to us an interesting picture of the exuberance that reigns in these regions at this time of the year. The huts were scarcely visible, on account of the rich crops of grain which surrounded them on all sides, while Palma Christi formed thick clusters of bushes, and a few specimens of a remarkable tree which I had never observed before, besides isolated bananas, rose above the rich mass of vegetation, and gave to the whole the charm of novelty; but the weather was so wet that I could make but a very slight sketch, and was wholly prevented from rambling about, the rain continuing the whole of the afternoon. Besides, all my energy was required to assist my three servants, who were all severely ill; and while I administered to two of them emetics, I had to soothe ʿAbdallah with a dose of laudanum. It was very fortunate indeed that I myself felt a little better. In short, our stay here was anything but agreeable, and I was worried by several people with demands which exceeded my power—such as to drive out devils, relieve impotency, and so on; but the mayor sent me a goat, fowls, milk, and a little butter. The village, which consisted of about two hundred huts, seemed to be in good circumstances.

Sunday, July 6.—When we started at a tolerably early hour in the morning, the weather was clear and favourable; but after we had crossed the little mountain-chain which surrounds the village of Múglebú at some distance to the east and north, and reached a small hamlet presenting signs of very careful cultivation, and numerous herds of cattle, we were drenched by a heavy shower. It is generally supposed that storms in the tropical climes break forth in the afternoon, or in the course of the night—and this certainly is the general rule; but if there has been a storm the day before, or during the night, and the weather has not cleared up, there can be no certainty that it will not come on again in the course of the morning. It is rather a rare phenomenon in these regions for a storm to gather in the morning on a clear sky; but nevertheless several examples even of this will be found in my meteorological tables. The natives are not at all insensible to rain; and while the Kánembú who had attached themselves to our caravan in Badaníjo were protecting their persons with their light wooden shields, the natives of the country collected thick bushes, and formed a sort of natural umbrella over their heads. To protect the head at least from wet is most essential in these climes. On another occasion, when I come to speak about the prevailing kinds of disease, I shall have to mention how dreadfully the Fulbe sometimes suffer from the maladies of the rainy season, when employed on their warlike expeditions.

Early in the morning we reached Múfi or Múbi, but were received so inhospitably that we had great difficulty in obtaining quarters, for which we were obliged to keep fighting the whole day, as a quarrelsome mʿallem wished to dislodge me from the hut of which I had taken possession. Fortunately his better half bore the inconvenience with more equanimity; and I put up cheerfully with the little trouble which she gave me from time to time by calling at the door and begging me to hand to her some little articles of her simple household furniture. My three people were so sick that they lay like so many corpses on the ground; and their condition prevented us from setting out even the following day, notwithstanding the inhospitable manner in which we were treated here, so that I had ample leisure to study minutely the architecture of my residence, of which I subjoin a ground-plan.

The hut, measuring about twelve feet in diameter, was built in the manner most usual in these regions—namely, of clay walls, with a thatched roof. The door, a little elevated above the floor, was three feet high, and fifteen inches wide, and not at all adapted for very stout persons. From the wall at the right of the door (a) ran another wall, “gáruwel súdo,” of the same height, but unconnected with the roof, right across the hut in an oblique line, to the length of about six feet, separating one part of the dwelling, and securing to it more privacy. In this compartment was the bed (c), consisting of a frame made of branches, and spread over pilasters of clay about three feet high. In the most sequestered part of the hut, in the corner formed by the round enclosing wall and the oblique one, at the top of the bed—“kéla kagá,” as the Kanúri say—stood the corn-urn (d), about six feet high, and, in its largest part, two feet wide, destined to keep a certain provision of corn always at hand; besides this, there was a smaller one (fe) at the foot of the bed—“shí kagá.” At the side of this smaller urn were two small pedestals of clay (g), serving the purpose of a sideboard, in order to place upon them pots or other articles. Then followed the kitchen, “defforíde” (h), still under cover of the oblique wall, but exactly on a line with it, so that the smoke might more easily find its way through the door, and consisting of a narrow place enclosed on each side by a low wall, to protect the fire, between which three stones, or rather small clay mounds like fire-bricks, supported the cooking-pot, while a small wooden footstool (i) accommodated the industrious landlady when busy with her most important culinary employment. While to all this part of the hut a certain degree of privacy was secured by the oblique wall, a considerable space to the left of the door remained unprotected; and here stood the large water-urn (f), which, always remaining in its place, is filled by means of smaller portable urns or pitchers.

Tuesday, July 8.—It seemed almost as if we were destined to stay another day in this place; for just when we were about to start, a most violent shower came down, and lasted full two hours. When at length we were able to set out on our road to Úba, it was excessively wet, the streams greatly swollen, and the weather still anything but bright and clear. At Úba, again, we remained much longer than I wished. In the evening, after our arrival, the governor went on an expedition against the Kílba-Gáya. Falling suddenly upon the poor pagans at early dawn, he captured a good many slaves; but the persecuted natives rallied, and, taking advantage of a defile through which he had to pass on his return to his residence, suddenly attacked him, and succeeded in rescuing all their countrymen from the hands of their relentless enemies. During my absence the corn had almost ripened; and the fields afforded a spectacle of the utmost exuberance. Almost all the grain here is sorghum, and mostly of the white kind; the average height of the stalks was from nine to ten feet. The whole area of the town was clothed in the richest vegetation, of great variety, where a botanist might have made a numerous collection.

Thursday, July 10.—Íbrahíma, the principal of the two men whom Mohammed Láwl had appointed to escort me to the frontier of his province, accompanied me a short distance when we left Úba. This man, who, perhaps because he was not well treated in Kúkawa, behaved rather sullenly on our journey to Ádamáwa, had become infinitely more amiable after the governor of that country had sent me back. He not only manifested on every occasion his heartfelt sorrow on account of my having been disappointed in the expectation of travelling over that interesting country in every direction, but he still more lamented that his countrymen had been deprived, by the imprudence of their ruler, of the advantage of my presence in the country. I have had occasion to observe repeatedly, that there is a great deal of republican spirit in Fúlbe, and that they have in general the air and manners of freeborn men, though I shall have to dwell upon the deterioration of this original character in the case of the inhabitants of Sókoto.

The commencement of our march through the unsafe and infested boundary-district from Úba northward was not very auspicious; and I was almost afraid lest, after having been allowed to reach the frontier unmolested, we were doomed to some insidious treachery in these lawless lands. The original arrangement was, that some other people should succeed to Íbrahíma, in order to see me safe to Íssege; but they never made their appearance, and we had scarcely parted from Íbrahíma when all sorts of alarms frightened and disturbed our little band. First a dreadful noise was heard from above the rocks at the foot of which lay our road; but it was found to proceed only from a countless multitude of birds of prey enjoying their liberty in noisy mirth. Then, when we reached the fields of corn within this rocky passage, which on our outward journey we had seen under cultivation, we were prevented by armed men from passing through them, and were obliged to make a long circuit. A little further on, people came running after us, and attempted to take away by force two of the slaves whom some of our companions were leading along; and when resisted, they raised a dismal cry for help, which was heard resounding to a great distance through the wild country. Serious quarrels seemed imminent; but fortunately no one came to their assistance.

About thirty travellers, all of them armed either with spears or with bows and arrows, had attached themselves to our troop. I got ready all my cartridges; and we were well on our guard. We had advanced about five miles from Úba, and were in the middle of the forest, when a more serious alarm arose, several people being seen lurking among the trees,—an unmistakable proof that they meditated an attack, if we should exhibit any signs of weakness. We therefore rallied a moment, and formed in front, the most sturdy of our spearmen gathering round me, and begging me to take steady aim when they should point out to me the chief men. But the natives, belonging most probably to the tribe of the Báza, who always infest this road, seeing that we were prepared to receive them, did not dare to quit their ambush; and having continued awhile along the path, we thought it wiser to leave it, and struck off to the west into the thickest covert of the wood, where the camels with their luggage had some difficulty in passing through, especially as the soil was cracked and rent in all directions. Having trudged on in this way for about two hours, and feeling sure that we were not pursued, we returned to the path, but left it again about noon, and, pursuing another track, reached Laháula, a village of unlucky memory, on the western side. But this time we were well received, not only by ʿAisha, but also by his wild and passionate son, who became a great friend of mine, and, having received from me a present of a knife, brought me three fowls in return, while his father sent túwo for all my people. I sketched the danísko, or handbill of my friend, which was of a peculiarly regular shape.

Friday, July 11.—On leaving Laháula in the morning, we again preferred the covert to the beaten path; but after we had gone round Kófa, which Bíllama thought it better to avoid, we returned to our well-known road parallel to the river and the mountain-chain beyond, and reached Íssege without any accident, early in the afternoon. There, too, my reception was very different from that which I had experienced on my going; and I was received with the utmost kindness and hospitality into the house of a wealthy family at the northern end of the village, and quartered in a neat little hut, the walls of which consisted of thatch, like the roof, but were plastered over with clay. The little hut, which scarcely measured seven feet in diameter, contained two couches, one raised above the ground to the right, and the other on the level of the ground on the left of the entrance. Three spears, a common shield, and a large shield called “chággo” by the Marghí, “kutufáni” by the Kanúri, consisting of a thick texture of reed, and big enough to protect two or three persons, a basket and a net, “úturu,” hanging from the roof, formed the furniture of this little dwelling, which was the apartment of the youngest son of the family, a fine, tall, and slender young man, with a very pleasant expression of countenance. Except that he wore the “funó,” a small leathern apron, round his waist, he was quite naked, but loaded with coquettish ornaments. Round his neck he wore a double string of red beads, a little lower another set of three strings of corals, and still lower again a set of two strings of iron beads; on his left shoulder he wore four broad iron rings, or “kégelá;” on his elbow two other narrow iron rings (barachággo) very neatly worked like beads; on his wrist six narrow and one broad iron ring, or “únzo,” and above them an ivory ring, or “yécho.” The right arm was not so richly endowed with ornaments, having only four iron rings at the upper part, and two on the wrist. Below his knee he wore a chain of cotton very neatly twisted—this is called “shishídderi,”[80]—and on his foot-joint a narrow iron ring called “míltedo.” However, I observed afterwards, that this young man did not wear all the national ornaments of his tribe; for I saw others who wore in addition an iron chain round their loins, which is called “shushú.” All these iron articles are very neatly made by the people of Wándalá, Morá being only two days’ march from this; and I only regret that I was not able to bring some of these articles home as specimens of the industry of the natives, as well as of the excellent quality of iron which they possess. This young man did not wear the “sér,” as they call it, a small reed or feather in the left ear.

I delighted my youthful host by the present of a mirror; and I gave a knife to his father, when he returned from the labour of the field. My little hut was not without a crowd of visitors the whole of the afternoon, all the friends of my host coming to see me. They were admitted in a regular way, five at a time, and behaved very decently, while they admired the few curious things which I had to show them. I was greatly amused by the simplicity of my young host and one of his brothers, who, when I presented them with small bits of sugar, gradually nibbled them away, and at the same time compared their size continually, till they were reduced to very diminutive morsels, when they agreed between them to give the remnants to a sister.

The language of these people, which, as I have stated, is intimately related to that of the Bátta, seems to show that they belong rather to the family of South African tribes, than to the group of neighbouring tribes of Central Negroland.

We had plenty of good fare in the evening, the Bórnu titular mayor of the place sending me a sheep, besides corn for the horses, and our hosts preparing a fowl for myself, and several dishes of hasty-pudding, with fish-sauce, for my people. The evening being clear, and illuminated by splendid moonlight, I sat a long time outside—perhaps too long in my precarious state of health—enjoying the sound of music and dancing which came from the opposite quarter of the village; but I was not a little astonished when I heard from my young friend, whom I asked why he did not go to join in the merriment, that it was not an ordinary amusement, but a religious dance to celebrate the death of an old man; for if a person in old age dies, his death is deemed a cause of satisfaction and mirth, while that of a young one is lamented with tears.

I have already noticed some peculiar customs of the Marghí; but I must say a few words about their curious ordeal on the holy granite rock of Kóbshi. When two are litigating about a matter, each of them takes a cock which he thinks the best for fighting; and they go together to Kóbshi. Having arrived at the holy rock, they set their birds a-fighting, and he whose cock prevails in the combat is also the winner in the point of litigation. But more than that, the master of the defeated cock is punished by the divinity, whose anger he has thus provoked; and on returning to his village he finds his hut in flames.

It is evident that this tribe, as well as many of the neighbouring ones, venerate their forefathers, in which respect they closely resemble the South African tribes, although the Berbers also seem originally to have had this sort of worship as well as the Háusa people. The Marghí do not practise circumcision; but, what seems very remarkable, they practise inoculation for the small-pox, at least to a considerable extent.

As I was sitting outside the courtyard, by degrees a great many natives collected round me, when a young man took me aside and entreated me earnestly to give him a remedy against the dislike of people. I, however, soon succeeded in making him confess that he meant only the dislike of one girl, who, he said, did not relish his haughty demeanour, and that he was reduced to a state of desperation, and wished for nothing but to die in battle. This example shows that even these simple people have some sentiment of love.

Saturday, July 12.—I had some difficulty in persuading Bíllama to leave this hospitable place; but I was ashamed to cause these good people, who had been robbed and despoiled a short time ago by Kashélla ʿAlí, any more trouble. We took a more easterly path than that by which we had travelled before, but nearly of the same character—full of holes and crevices, and covered with thick forest, while the nutritive root “katakírri” employed the several members of our caravan continually, particularly a Púllo pilgrim from the far west near the coast, who was indefatigable in digging as well as in eating. We had only proceeded a few miles when we met a troop of Marghí, who were going to perform a sacrifice in the holy grove of Íssege, one of them carrying a sheep and another a fowl. One of them had ornamented his shield with red lines, which on the black ground of the elephant’s hide were quite becoming; but I do not think that this custom is general; perhaps it had some connection with the sacrifice.

After a march of eight hours, we reached the first cluster of huts of the Northern Molghoy, where we wished to find quarters; but the unfortunate people, by the recent exactions and contributions levied on them by the Kanúri, were driven to a state of despair, and obstinately refused to receive us. There remained, therefore, no alternative but to continue our march, and to try to reach Yerímarí; but the effort was too much for me, and had the worst consequences in my reduced state of health. I was for some time quite senseless when, after a ride of thirteen hours, I succeeded in reaching the well-known place, and threw myself flat upon the ground of my little hut. Scarcely had my luggage arrived, when a storm, which the whole afternoon had been hanging over our heads, broke forth, and continued till midnight with unabated violence.

Man as well as beast was so exhausted that we remained here the following day, when I felt strength enough to walk out a little into the fields. There was an extraordinary difference between the advanced state in which I had left the crops in Ádamáwa and that in which I found them here. The reader will remember that the fields round this place were just being sown on the day of my leaving it; and during the time of my absence rain must have been rather scanty, so that the crops were scarcely twenty inches above the ground. In the afternoon, Bíllama, who was always obliging, gave me some information with regard to the adjacent country.

Monday, July 14.—We continued our march, and, with a halt during the hot hours, reached Ujé Kasúkulá in the evening. The aspect of the country offered unmistakable proof of our advance northwards. Even the grass here was barely an inch or two above the ground; the crops, where most advanced, were ten or twelve inches high, while other fields were still covered with the tunfáfia, or Asclepias gigantea,—a sure proof that they had not yet been brought under cultivation. We passed a good many cotton-fields. I reached the place in a state of the utmost exhaustion, and was obliged to stay here three days to recruit my strength, taking hardly any food but quinine, and placing a plaster of cantharides on my chest. The governor of the place, Kashélla ʿAlí Aláwó, treated my party very hospitably and kindly, and showed sincere compassion for my feeble condition. I learnt from him, to my great satisfaction, that Mr. Overweg had really embarked in the boat on the Tsád, and was gone to the Búdduma.

Friday, July 18.—At length we set out again; but though I felt a little better, I was glad when, after a short march of three hours through a very pleasant and populous country, we took up our quarters in a place called Gúlfo, a great proportion of the inhabitants of which are Shúwa. Having passed the hot hours in a spacious and cool hut, I enjoyed for a while the freshness of the evening outside, in my courtyard, delighted at the same time by the sight of the herds of cattle returning from their pastures.

Shortly before we reached Gúlfo, we had passed a village entirely inhabited by Shúwa, and even called Shúwarám.

Though we had now reached the monotonous alluvial plains of Bórnu proper, yet the following day’s march in the company of my friend Bíllama, who, after we had become better acquainted, was anxious to gratify my desire for information in every respect, was highly interesting. Although the vegetation was very poor in comparison with that of the more southern districts, yet there was plenty of underwood, and we observed the small bush called “kúmkum,” the berries of which taste very like coffee, and which in reality may be a kind of Coffea. On our right we left a path leading by Yámaké, Tangállanda, and Kirbáje, to Kabé-Ngáwa, a place famous on account of its neighbourhood affording the “fógo,”—wood from which the shields (ngáwa) of the Kánembú are made: it lies on the road to Díkowa, passing by a place called Ájowa. The spears of the natives (kasékka) are made from the root of the kindíl or talha, but the javelin (béllam) from that of the kúrna; the shafts of arrows are made from the “kabílla”-bush, which hereabouts grows in great abundance. Cultivated and pasture-ground alternately succeeded each other, and I was astonished to see that the produce of this district was exclusively argúm móro, or Pennisetum, while ngáberi, or Holcus sorghum, is a much more general grain in Bórnu, with the exception of the country of the Koyám. A little before eleven o’clock we finished our day’s march in a small village called Múnghono-Mabé, where I took possession of a large hut constructed in the peculiar style of the Shúwa, the roof being of an oval shape, without the characteristic top or head, the “kogí ngímbe,” and supported by a pole, “dúngulis,” in the middle of the hut, while the thatch is made in a very irregular and hasty manner, the compactness of wickerwork being insufficiently supplied by a heap of reeds thrown upon the roof and fastened with ropes.

Sunday, July 20.—I felt much better; and after a beautiful moonlight night, we started earlier than usual, “dúnia kéte.” The morning was very fine; but the sun soon became rather powerful and troublesome. We passed a considerable pool of stagnant water surrounded by fine trees, tamarinds, and sycamores, such as in this district, where stunted mimosas form the predominant feature of the vegetation, are only seen in very favoured spots; it is called “kúlugu Hámtigu.” On the path itself also, deeply cut as it was in the sandy soil, there was a good deal of water. We passed the site of a large town named Dóngo, which had been destroyed by the Fúlbe or Felláta some forty years ago, but of which the circumference of the wall was still visible, the gate being marked by a colossal monkey-bread-tree or Adansonia, the constant follower of human society, spreading its gigantic branches out like an immense candelabrum. Bíllama brought me the berries of a bush called “búlte,” the taste of which was very much like currants; and further on he presented me with a “fitó,” a red fruit looking exactly like red pepper, with numbers of small kernels, and of a somewhat acidulous taste.

We rested a little more than three hours, during the heat of the day, near a pond of stagnant water, in a district rich in pastures, where, among numerous herds of the Shúwa, the cattle of Háj Beshír were also grazing. But the ground hereabouts seemed to be nothing but one continuous world of ants, which did not allow us a moment’s undisturbed repose, and even during our short stay they made several successful attacks not only upon part of our luggage, but even of my dress.

When we set out again, at an early hour in the afternoon, numerous pools of water along the road testified to the presence of the rainy season; and the village Máska, which we passed soon afterwards, was surrounded with corn and cotton-fields as well as by rich green pasture-grounds. The path was well frequented. We met first a horseman of the sheikh sent as a messenger to Ujé, with the order to call in the numerous horse of that district; and Bíllama was of opinion that his master had thoughts of arranging the affairs of Khadéja. Further on we met a troop of Shúwa women, who, in a mournful song, lamented the death of one of their companions. They passed us too rapidly to allow the words of their song to be distinctly heard.

The country on our left, and that on our right, showed a remarkable contrast; for while, on our left, cornfields, fine pasture-grounds, and villages succeeded each other, on the right an immense ghadír, or fírki, still dry, and only sparingly covered here and there with a little coarse herbage, stretched out to an immeasurable distance. At an early hour in the afternoon, deviating a little from the path, we turned into the village of Káliluwá Grémarí, which belongs to ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, the second brother of Sheikh ʿOmár, and found the male inhabitants of the village sitting in the shade of a chédia or caoutchouc-tree, busily employed in making wicker-work. However, they proved too clearly that we had entered the inhospitable zone in the neighbourhood of the capital; observing, with great coolness, that the sun was as yet high, and would enable us still to make a good march to some other place, they would hear nothing of our quartering in their village. But Bíllama was not the man to be laughed at; and, riding through the midst of them, he took possession for me of one of the best huts. I could not, in truth, approve of this despotical mode of dealing; but I was too weak to run the risk of spending a night in my tent on the damp ground. The villagers seemed to be drained to the utmost by their gracious lord, and did not possess a single cow; even fowls were scarcely to be seen.

In the evening I was greatly amused, at first, by the noisy hum of a “mákaranchí,” or school, close to my hut, where, round a large fire, some six or seven boys were repeating, at the highest pitch of their voices, and with utter disregard of the sense, a few verses of the Kurán, which in the daytime they had been taught to read by their master, who, doubtless, understood them as little as the boys themselves; but by degrees the noise became almost insupportable. It is generally thought in Europe, that a schoolboy is too much tormented; but these poor African boys, for the little they learn, are worried still more—at least, I have often found them in the cold season, and with scarcely a rag of a shirt on, sitting round a miserable fire as early as four o’clock in the morning, learning their lessons. Besides, they have to perform all sorts of menial service for the master, and are often treated no better than slaves.

Monday, July 21.—The country which we passed in the morning presented more pasture-grounds than cultivated lands; and after a little while I turned, with my companion, out of our path, to the left, towards a small encampment or “berí Shúwabe” of the Kohálemí, a Shúwa or Arab tribe, where, for three large beads, called “nejúm,” we bought a little fresh milk. On this occasion I learned from Bíllama, that the Shúwa or native Arabs settled in the district of Ujé belong to the tribe of the Sáraji, while the Sugúla and the Sálamát have their camping-grounds further east.

The country became rather dreary, black “fírki”-ground and sandy soil alternately succeeding each other; and traffic there was none. But when we reached the well of Maira, a considerable place which we passed on our left hand, the path became animated from an interesting cause, a whole village or “berí” of wandering Arabs passing through in search of fresh pasture-grounds to the west. Each mistress of a family was sitting on the top of her best household furniture, which was carefully packed on the backs of the cattle, and covered with hides, while a female slave followed her, sitting astride on the less valuable gear and the poles with pots and other such utensils; but, distinguished above all by the harness of her bullock, the neat arrangement of her seat, a leather tent-like covering over her head, and the stoutness of her own person, sat the wife of the chief. Most of these women, however, were rather slender than otherwise, testifying to the sound and well-preserved national taste of these Arabs. They never veil the face, and their dress is simple and decent; but they are not nearly so tidy as the Fulfúlde ladies. Most of the men followed at a great distance with the flocks of goats and sheep.

When this interesting procession had passed by, the monotony of the country was more intensely felt. The proud Kanúri of the towns mock the inhabitants of these districts, who have nothing but a few cattle and goats, with the verse: “Sémma bíllani—berí kaní” (“This is the whole of my town—cattle and goats;” or, in other words, “The town and moat, two cows and a goat”). The poor stunted mimosas had been cut down in many places, in order that the whole tract being changed into a quagmire or swamp, it might be sown with the peculiar kind of holcus called “másakwá” (Holcus cernuus); and then these black, dismal-looking plains become one field of life and wealth. This remarkable change in the aspect of the country, and this second harvest, which takes place in the middle of the cold season, and by which the fírki, or fírgi, becomes a fírgi mosogábe (másakwábe), I shall have to describe in another place.

We then entered a well-cultivated and thickly inhabited district called Yelé, where it was a novelty to be obliged to draw water from the well or barrem Yelé; for since reaching Ujé on our journey out we had constantly met waterpools or small rivulets, from which we took our supply, and even the well at Maira was rendered quite superfluous by a large tank close by. However, I have already had occasion to observe that the water from these stagnant pools is anything but wholesome, particularly after the rainy season, when they receive no further supply; and I have no doubt that the drinking of such water is the principal, if not the only cause of that dreadful and widespread disease (the “fárantít” or “ʿarúg”—“ngíduwí” in Kanúri—“the misery”) which disables the working man, and makes him a poor wretched being—the guineaworm, which is sure to be met with in at least one out of three persons who travel a great deal through the whole of Central Africa. I never met with an instance of this disease in a woman. It seemed to me, too, as if the pagans, whose nakedness exposed all their limbs to view, suffered less from it.

There seemed to be no superfluous supply of water in the district through which our road then lay, which appeared as dry as I had left it, only thinly scattered and lonely blades of grass shooting up here and there; but yet there was a favoured spot where the road from Márte to Alárge crossed our path, adorned with fine wide-spreading tamarind-trees, and rain-clouds were approaching from the east to fertilize the soil, and make it capable of production. We therefore hurried on, and took shelter in the village Mʿallem-Shíshi, in order to let the storm pass over; our hut, however, was so incapable of resisting heavy rain, that as soon as the storm broke out we were almost swamped. The carelessness with which the houses of the natives are built in this region is an unmistakable evidence of the difference of the climate; on the other side, we have seen the neat huts of the people of Fúmbiná, and we shall see those of the despised pagan natives of Músgu. The people assured me that this was the first regular rain which they had had this year, the first preparatory shower having fallen thirty days ago, and the second two days ago.

The clouds having taken a southerly direction, we started forth in the afternoon, after some hesitation, but had scarcely been an hour on the march, and were just in the middle of a wide dismal-looking ghadír or fírki, when the clouds, having gathered again over our heads, poured down violent torrents of rain, so that in a few moments the whole country looked like a lake, and our progress was excessively difficult. At length, after an hour and a half, in the most uncomfortable state we reached the village Kiryúmmuwa, where I was quartered in a rather magnificent but as yet unfinished hut of clay, and endeavoured to dry my wet clothes as well as I could.

We were now only one day’s march from Kúkawa; and we started early the next morning, in order to reach home before night. The neighbourhood of the capital had been sufficiently indicated already during the last day’s march by the dúm-bushes, which, with the melancholy Asclepias gigantea, might well decorate the scutcheon of Kúkawa—with more justice, indeed, than the kúka, or monkey-bread-tree, from which the name was taken, but of which but a few poor stunted specimens are to be seen in the courtyard of the palace in the eastern town.

We had scarcely gone a mile when we met the first body of Shúwa, men and women, who were returning with their unloaded pack-oxen from the great Monday market of the capital; and then the string of market-people on their way to their respective homes was almost uninterrupted. While our people followed the road, Bíllama and I turned off a little to the left, in order to pay a visit to the mayor of Múnghono and obtain a cool drink; for since I had had the fever I suffered greatly from thirst, and the water from the wells in general, as preserving a mean temperature of about eighty degrees, was quite tepid. The place lies in an elevated position; and on its south side there is a hollow, where wheat and onions are cultivated after the rainy season, while another cavity surrounding it on the north and east sides, and where at present only small separate water-pools are collecting, forms, later in the season, one continuous lake. There is a great deal of iron-stone, “kau súwa,” hereabouts; and it is used by the native blacksmiths, though it affords but an inferior sort of metal—far inferior to the excellent iron, the “sú-búltu,” of Búbanjídda. While passing through the place, I was greatly struck with the variety which the roofs of the huts exhibited, and made a slight sketch of them (see previous page).

Múnghono, which is likewise the name of the whole district, has been a place of importance from early times, and is often mentioned in the history of the Bórnu kings. After the richness of natural forms which I had beheld in Ádamáwa, the country seemed extremely monotonous, there being nothing whatever to cheer the eye except the blossom of the mimosas, which spread a sweet scent all around. We encamped during the hot hours of the day near the well of Káine, where we had great difficulty in supplying ourselves with water from the well, while a little later in the season a large lake is formed here: for Africa is the region of contrasts as well in nature as in human life.

When we set out again from this place, people from the town, who had been informed of our approach, came to meet us; and I heard, to my great satisfaction, that the crafty Arab Mohammed el Mughárbi, whom I had already met in Gúmmel, had at length arrived with the merchandize confided to his care, the nominal value of which was one hundred pounds sterling, so that there was at least some hope of being able to carry on the mission on a small scale.

But I could not but feel pleased with my reception on returning to headquarters in this part of the world; for when we approached the southern gate of the town, three horsemen, who were stationed there, came galloping up to me, and having saluted me with their spears raised, placed themselves in front, and in stately procession led me through the town to my house, where I was soon regaled with a plentiful supper sent by the vizier. I afterwards perceived that he had expected me to pay him my respects the same evening; but, as I felt very weak, I deferred the visit till the next morning, when, on his return from an early visit to the sheikh, he gave me an audience in the presence of all the people. Having expressed his sorrow at my reduced state, and having inquired how I had been received in Ádamáwa, he entered, with apparent delight, into a long conversation with me respecting the form of the earth and the whole system of the world. On being asked what I now intended to do, I replied that it was my design, after having made the tour of the lake, to try to penetrate into the regions south of Bagírmi. He immediately expressed his doubts as to the possibility of going round the lake as far as the Bahar el Ghazál, but promised to further my plans as far as possible, although he thought that I had done enough already, and should rather think of returning home safely with the results of my labours; for seeing me so weak during the first rainy season which I was spending in these regions, he was afraid that something might happen to me.

Well satisfied with this audience, I returned to my quarters and wrote a short report to H.M.’s Government, of the results of my journey, informing them that my most deeply cherished hopes with regard to that river in the south had been surpassed, and requesting them to send an expedition in order to verify its identity with the so-called Chadda. This report, which was sent off by a courier a day or two before Mr. Overweg’s return from his navigation of the lake, and which was overtaken by a messenger with a short account of his survey, created general satisfaction in Europe, and procured for me the confidence of H.M.’s Government. Meanwhile I endeavoured to arrange the pecuniary affairs of the mission as well as I could.

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XXXVIII. RAINY SEASON IN KÚKAWA

I had left Kúkawa on my journey to Ádamáwa in the best state of health, but had brought back from that excursion the germs of disease; and residence in the town, at least at this period of the year, was not likely to improve my condition. It would certainly have been better for me had I been able to retire to some more healthy spot; but trivial though urgent business obliged me to remain in Kúkawa. It was necessary to sell the merchandize which had at length arrived, in order to keep the mission in some way or other afloat, by paying the most urgent debts and providing the necessary means for further exploration. There was merchandize to the value of one hundred pounds sterling; but, as I was obliged to sell the things at a reduced rate for ready money, the loss was considerable; for all business in these countries is transacted on two or three months’ credit, and, after all, payment is made, not in ready money, but chiefly in slaves. It is no doubt very necessary for a traveller to be provided with those various articles which form the presents to be made to the chiefs, and which are in many districts required for bartering; but he ought not to depend upon their sale for the supply of his wants. Altogether it is difficult to carry on trade in conjunction with extensive geographical research, although a person settling quietly down in a place, and entering into close relations with the natives, might collect a great deal of interesting information, which would probably escape the notice of the roving traveller, whose purpose is rather to explore distant regions. Besides, I was obliged to make numerous presents to my friends, in order to keep them in good humour, and had very often not only to provide dresses for themselves and their wives, but even for their domestic retainers; so that, all things considered, the supply of one hundred pounds’ worth of merchandize could not last very long.

I have remarked that, when I re-entered Kúkawa, the cultivation of the ground had not yet begun; indeed, the whole country was so parched, that it became even a matter of perplexity to find sufficient fodder for the horses; for the whole stock of dry herbage was consumed, and of young herbage none was to be had. It is stated in my memoranda, that on the 5th of August I paid twelve rotl for a “kéla kajímbe,” or large bundle of dry grass; an enormous price in this country, and sufficient to maintain a whole family for several days; but that was the most unfavourable moment, for in a few days fresh herbage sprang up and made good all deficiencies. While speaking on this subject, I may also mention, that the herbage of Kúkawa, being full of “ngíbbi,” or Pennisetum distichum, horses brought from other countries generally fare but badly on it, as they are reluctant to fill their mouths with its small prickles.

Rain was very plentiful this year (1851), and I am sure would, if measured, have far exceeded the quantity found by Mr. Vogel in 1854. Indeed, there were twelve very considerable falls of rain during the month of August alone, which together probably exceeded thirty inches. It must be borne in mind, moreover, that the fall of rain in Kúkawa does not constitute the rule for the region, but is quite exceptional, owing to the entire absence of trees and of heights in the neighbourhood. Hence, the statement of Mr. Vogel in one of his letters, that the line of tropical rains only begins south of Kúkawa, must be understood with some reserve; for if he had measured the rain in the woody country north of that capital, between Dáwerghú and Kalíluwá, he would, in my opinion, have obtained a very different result. It is evident that all depends upon the meaning of the expression, tropical rain. If it imply a very copious fall of rain, Kúkawa certainly does not lie within the limit of tropical rain; but if we are to understand by it the regularly returning annual fall of rain, produced by the ascending currents of heated air, it certainly does. There was a very heavy fall of rain on the night of the 3rd of August, which not only swamped our courtyard, but changed my room, which lay half a foot lower, and was protected only by a low threshold, into a little lake, aggravating my feverish state very considerably, and spoiling most of my things.

On the 5th of August rain fell for the first time unaccompanied by a storm, though the rainy season in general sets in with dreadful tornadoes. The watery element disturbed the luxurious existence of the “kanám galgálma,” the large termites, which had fed on our sugar and other supplies, and on the 6th they all of a sudden disappeared from the ground, and filled the air as short-lived winged creatures, in which state they are called by the people “tsútsu,” or “dsúdsu,” and, when fried, are used as food. Their tenure of life is so precarious, and they seem to be so weak, that they become very troublesome, as they fall in every direction upon man and his food. Of each swarm of these insects only one couple seems destined to survive; all the rest die a violent death.

The town now began to present quite a different appearance; but while it was agreeable to see the dryness relieved, and succulent grass and fresh crops springing up all around, and supplanting the dull uniformity of the Asclepias gigantea, on the other hand, the extensive waterpools formed everywhere in the concavities of the ground, were by no means conducive to health, more especially as those places were depositories of all sorts of offal, and of putrefying carcasses of many kinds. The consequence was that my health, instead of improving, became worse, although I struggled hard, and as often as possible rode out on horseback. All the people were now busy in the labours of the field, although cultivation in the neighbourhood of the town is not of a uniform, but of a varied character; and a large portion of the ground, consisting of “ánge” and “fírki,” is reserved for the culture of the masákuwá (Holcus cernuus), or winter-corn, with its variety the kérirám.

On the 8th of August the neighbourhood presented a very animated spectacle, the crownlands in Gawánge being then cultivated by a great number of people, working to the sound of a drum. Their labours continued till the 15th; on which day Mr. Overweg had the honour of presenting his Búdduma friends to the sheikh of Bórnu. All nature was now cheerful; the trees were putting forth fresh leaves, and the young birds began to fledge. I took great delight in observing the little household of a family of the feathered tribe; there were five young ones, the oldest and most daring of which began to try his strength on the 12th of August, while the other four set out together on the 14th.

Marriages are not frequent about this time, on account of the dearness of corn; but matches are generally made after the harvest has been got in, and while corn is cheap. I shall speak in another place of the marriage ceremonies of this country.

On the 5th of September we obtained the first specimen of new “argúm móro,” white Negro millet, which is very pleasant to the taste when roasted on the fire; but this is regarded as a rarity, and new corn is not brought into the market in any great quantities before the end of November, or rather the beginning of December, when all the corn, which has been for a long time lying in the fields in conical heaps, called “búgga,” is threshed out.

My friend, the vizier, whose solicitude for my health I cannot acknowledge too warmly, was very anxious that I should not stay in the town during the rainy season; and knowing that one of our principal objects was to investigate the eastern shore of lake Tsád, sent me word, on the 11th of August, that I might now view the Bahar el Ghazál, an undertaking which, as I have already mentioned, he had at first represented as impossible. The news from Kánem, however, was now favourable; but as I shall speak in another place of the political state of this distracted country, and of the continual struggle between Bórnu and Wadáÿ, I need only mention here that the Welád Slimán, who had become a mercenary band attached to the vizier, had been successful during their last expedition, and were reported on the very day of my return from Ádamáwa to have made a prize of one hundred and fifty horses and a great many camels, which, however, was a great exaggeration.

We were well acquainted with the character of these people, who are certainly the most lawless robbers in the world; but as it was the express wish of the British Government that we should endeavour to explore the regions bordering on the lake, there was no course open to us, but to unite our pursuits with theirs; besides, they were prepared in some measure for such a union, for, while they inhabited the grassy lands round the great Syrtis, they had come into frequent contact with the English. We had no choice, for all the districts to the north-east and east of the Tsád were at present in a certain degree dependent on Wadáÿ, then at war with Bórnu, and we were told at the commencement that we might go anywhere except to Wadáÿ. Instead of fighting it out with his own people, which certainly would have been the most honourable course, the vizier had ventured to make use of the remnant of the warlike, and at present homeless, tribe of the Welád Slimán, in the attempt to recover the eastern districts of Kánem from his eastern rival; or at least to prevent the latter from obtaining a sure footing in them; for this object he had made a sort of treaty with these Arabs, undertaking to supply them with horses, muskets, powder and shot. Thus, in order to visit those inhospitable regions, which had attracted a great deal of attention in Europe, we were obliged to embrace this opportunity. Under these circumstances, on the 16th of August, I sent the vizier word that I was ready to join the Welád Slimán in Búrgu; whereupon he expressed a wish that Mr. Overweg might likewise accompany us; the stay in Kúkawa during the rainy season being very unhealthy.

Mr. Overweg had returned on the 9th to Maduwári from his interesting voyage on the Tsád, of which every one will deeply regret that he himself was not able to give a full account. Traversing that shallow basin in the English boat, which we had carried all the way through the unbounded sandy wastes and the rocky wildernesses of the desert, he had visited a great part of the islands, which are dispersed over its surface, and which, sometimes reduced to narrow sandy downs, at others expanding to wide grassy lowlands, sustain a population in their peculiar national independence, the remnant of a great nation which was exterminated by the Kanúri. It was a little world of its own with which he had thus come into contact, and into which we might hope to obtain by degrees a better insight. He enjoyed excellent health, far better than when I saw him before, on his first rejoining me in Kúkawa; and as he was well aware of the strong reasons which our friend the vizier had for wishing us not to stay in the swampy lowlands round the capital during the latter part of the rainy season, he agreed to join me on this adventurous expedition to the north-east.

Those regions had, from the very beginning of our setting out from Múrzuk, attracted Mr. Overweg’s attention, and while as yet unacquainted with the immense difficulties that attend travelling in these inhospitable tracts, he had indulged in the hope of being able, at some future time, to ramble about with our young Tébu lad, Mohammed el Gatróni, among the fertile and picturesque valleys of Búrgu and Wajánga. For this reason, as well as on account of my debility, which left me, during the following expedition, the exercise of only a small degree of my natural energy, it is greatly to be regretted that my unfortunate companion, who seemed never fully aware that his life was at stake, did not take into consideration the circumstance that he himself might not be destined to return home, in order to elaborate his researches. If all the information which he occasionally collected were joined to mine, those countries would be far better known than they now are; but instead of employing his leisure hours in transcribing his memoranda in a form intelligible to others, he left them all on small scraps of paper, negligently written with lead pencil, which, after the lapse of some time, would become unintelligible even to himself. It is a pity that so much talent as my companion possessed was not allied with practical habits, and concentrated upon those subjects which he professed to study.

The political horizon of Negroland during this time was filled with memorable events, partly of real, partly of fictitious importance. Whatever advantages Bórnu may derive from its central position, it owes to it also the risk of being involved in perpetual struggles with one or other of the surrounding countries. And hence it is that, under a weak government, this empire cannot stand for any length of time; it must go on conquering and extending its dominion over adjacent territories, or it will soon be overpowered. Towards the north is the empire of the Turks, weak and crumbling in its centre, but always grasping with its outlying members, and threatening to lay hold of what is around; towards the north-west, the Tuarek, not forming a very formidable united power, but always ready to pounce upon their prey whenever opportunity offers; towards the west, the empire of Sókoto, great in extent, but weak beyond description in the unsettled state of its loosely connected provinces, and from the unenergetic government of a peacefully disposed prince; for while one provincial governor was just then spreading around him the flames of sedition and revolt, towards the south another vassal of this same empire was disputing the possession of those regions whence the supply of slaves is annually obtained; and towards the east, there is an empire strong in its barbarism, and containing the germs of power, should it succeed in perfectly uniting those heterogeneous elements of which it is composed—I mean Wadáÿ.

With regard to the Turks, the state of affairs at this time was peculiar. Bórnu, as we have seen in the historical account of that empire, once embraced the whole region as far as Fezzán,—nay, even the southern portion of Fezzán itself, and even Wadán; but since the decline of the empire in the latter half of the last century these limits had been abandoned, and the communication with the north had, in general, become extremely unsafe. This state of things is necessarily disadvantageous to a country which depends for many things on the supplies conveyed from the north; and the authorities naturally wish that, since they themselves, in their present condition, are unable to afford security to this important communication, somebody else may do it. Hence it was that, after my arrival in April, when the vizier was conversing with me about the prospects of a regular commercial intercourse with the English, he declared that he should be much pleased if the Turks would occupy Kawár, and more particularly Bilma; and by building a fort and keeping a garrison near the salt-mines of that place, exercise some control over the Tuarek of Aír, and make them responsible for robberies committed on the Fezzán road. It was in consequence of this communication that I begged Her Majesty’s Government to enter into communication upon this point with the Porte.

But the matter was of a very delicate nature with regard to Bórnu. Indeed, it seemed questionable whether the Turks, if once firmly established in Bilma, would not think fit to exercise some control over the latter country. Nay, it was rather to be feared that they might try to obtain there a firm footing, in order to extend their empire; and when the news arrived in Bórnu that the ambitious Hassan Bashá had returned to his post as governor of Fezzán, with very ample instructions, the whole court of Bórnu became alarmed. The effect of this news upon the disposition of the sheikh and the vizier to enter into friendly relations with the British Government was remarkable. On the 5th of August they were not able to conceal their fear lest a numberless host of Englishmen might come into their country, if, by signing the treaty, access was once allowed them, as proposed by Her Majesty’s Government. For although they were conscious of the poverty of their country in comparison with Europe, at times they were apt to forget it. In the afternoon of the 6th the courier arrived, and the same evening Háj Beshír sent me word that they were ready to sign the treaty; and afterwards they were very anxious that the English Government should endeavour to prevent the governor of Fezzán from carrying out the ulterior objects of his ambition. At that time I had assured myself that a northern road through the desert was not suitable for European commerce, and that a practicable highroad, leading several hundred miles into the interior of the continent and passing to the south of Kanó, the great commercial entrepôt of Central Africa, and only about two hundred miles in a straight line to the south of Kúkawa, had been found in the river Bénuwé.

With regard to the empire of Sókoto, there happened at this time a catastrophe which, while it was an unmistakable proof of the debility of that vast agglomeration of provinces, proved at the same time extremely favourable to Bórnu. For on the 1st of August the news arrived that Bowári or Bokhári, the exiled governor of Khadéja, who had conquered the town and killed his brother, had thrown back, with great loss, an immense army sent against him by ʿAlíyu, the emperor of Sókoto, under the command of his prime minister, ʿAbdu Gedádo, and composed of the forces of the provinces of Kanó, Báuchi, Katágum, Mármar, and Bobéru, when several hundreds were said to have perished in the komádugu, or the great fiumara of Bórnu. In the spring, while Mr. Overweg was staying in Góber, the Mariadáwa and Goberáwa had made a very successful expedition into Zánfara; and the emperor of Sókoto could take no other revenge upon them, than by sending orders to Kanó that my friends the Asbenáwa, many of whose brethren had taken part in the expedition, should be driven out of the town, which order was obeyed, while only the well-known Kandáke, the same man whom Mr. Richardson, on his former journey into the desert, has so frequently mentioned, was admitted into the town through the intercession of the people of Ghadámes.

The immediate consequence of these circumstances was, that the court of Bórnu tried to enter into more friendly relations with the Asbenáwa, or the Tuarek of Asben, with whom at other times they were on unfriendly terms, and the prisoners whom they had made on the last expedition were released. The coalition extended as far as Góber; and the most ardent desire of the vizier was to march straight upon Kanó. To conquer this great central place of commerce was the great object of this man’s ambition; but for which he did not possess sufficient energy and self-command. However, the governor of that place, terrified by the victory of Bokhári, who was now enabled to carry on his predatory expeditions into that rich territory without hindrance, distributed sixty bernúses and three thousand dollars among the Mʿallemín, to induce them to offer up their prayers to Allah for the public welfare.

We have seen above, that the Bórnu people had given to their relations with Ádamáwa a hostile character; but from that quarter they had nothing to fear, the governor of their province being too much occupied by the affairs of his own country.

I will now say a word about Wadáÿ. That was the quarter to which the most anxious looks of the Bórnu people were directed. For, seven years previously, they had been very nearly conquered by them, and had employed every means to get information of what was going on there. But from thence also the news was favourable. For although the report of the death of the Sultan Mohammed Sheríf, in course of time, turned out to be false, still it was true that the country was plunged into a bloody civil war with the Abú-Senún, or Kodoyí, and that numbers of enterprising men had succumbed in the struggle. The business of the town went on as usual, with the exception of the ʿaid el fotr, the ngúmerí ashám, the festival following the great annual fast, which was celebrated in a grand style, not by the nation, which seemed to take very little interest in it, but by the court. In other places, like Kanó, the rejoicings seem to be more popular on this occasion; the children of the butchers or “masufauchi” in that great emporium of commerce mounting some oxen, fattened for the occasion, between the horns, and managing them by a rope fastened to the neck, and another to the hind leg. As for the common people of Bórnu, they scarcely took any other part in this festivity than by putting on their best dresses; and it is a general custom in larger establishments that servants and attendants on this day receive a new shirt.

I also put on my best dress, and mounting my horse, which had recovered a little from the fatigue of the last journey, though it was not yet fit for another, proceeded in the morning to the eastern town or “billa gedíbe,” the great thoroughfare being crowded with men on foot and horseback, passing to and fro, all dressed in their best. It had been reported that the sheikh was to say his prayers in the mosque, but we soon discovered that he was to pray outside the town, as large troops of horsemen were leaving it through the north gate or “chinna yalábe.” In order to become aware of the place where the ceremony was going on, I rode to the vizier’s house, and met him just as he came out, mounted on horseback, and accompanied by a troop of horsemen.

At the same time several cavalcades were seen coming from various quarters, consisting of the kashéllas, or officers, each with his squadron, of from a hundred to two hundred horsemen, all in the most gorgeous attire, particularly the heavy cavalry; the greater part being dressed in a thick stuffed coat called “degíbbir,” and wearing over it several tobes of all sorts of colours and designs, and having their heads covered with the “búge,” or casque, made very nearly like those of our knights in the middle age, but of lighter metal, and ornamented with most gaudy feathers. Their horses were covered all over with thick clothing called “líbbedí,” with various coloured stripes, consisting of three pieces, and leaving nothing but the feet exposed, the front of the head being protected and adorned by a metal plate. Others were dressed in a coat of mail, “síllege,” and the other kind called “komá-komí-súbe.” The lighter cavalry was only dressed in two or three showy tobes and small white or coloured caps; but the officers and more favoured attendants wore bernúses of finer or coarser quality, and generally of red or yellow colour, slung in a picturesque manner round the upper part of their body, so that the inner wadding of richly coloured silk was most exposed to view.

All these dazzling cavalcades, amongst whom some very excellent horses were seen prancing along, were moving towards the northern gate of the “bílla gedíbe,” while the troop of the sheikh himself, who had been staying in the western town, was coming from the south-west. The sight of this troop, at least from a little distance, as is the case in theatrical scenery, was really magnificent. The troop was led by a number of horsemen; then followed the livery slaves with their matchlocks; and behind them rode the sheikh, dressed as usual in a white bernús, as a token of his religious character, but wearing round his head a red shawl. He was followed by four magnificent chargers clothed in líbbedí of silk of various colours, that of the first horse being striped white and yellow, that of the second white and brown, that of the third white and light green, and that of the fourth white and cherry-red. This was certainly the most interesting and conspicuous part of the procession. Behind the horses followed the four large ʿalam or ensigns of the sheikh, and the four smaller ones of the musketeers, and then a numerous body of horsemen.

This cavalcade of the sheikh’s now joined the other troops, and the whole body proceeded in the direction of Dawerghú to a distance of about a mile from the town. Here the sheikh’s tent was pitched, consisting of a very large cupola of considerable dimensions, with blue and white stripes, and curtains, the one half white and the other red; the curtains were only half closed. In this tent the sheikh himself, the vizier, and the first courtiers were praying, while the numerous body of horsemen and men on foot were grouped around in the most picturesque and imposing variety.

Meanwhile I made the round of this interesting scene, and endeavoured to count the various groups. In their numbers I was certainly disappointed, as I had been led to expect myriads. At the very least, however, there were three thousand horsemen, and from six thousand to seven thousand armed men on foot, the latter partly with bow and arrow. There were besides a great multitude of spectators. The ceremony did not last long; and as early as nine o’clock the ganga summoned all the chiefs to mount, and the dense mass of human beings began to disperse and range themselves in various groups. They took their direction round the north-western corner of the east town, and entered the latter by the western gate; but the crowd was so great that I chose to forego taking leave of the sheikh, and went slowly back over the intermediate ground between the two towns in the company of some very chevalieresque and well-mounted young Arabs from Ben-Gházi, and posted myself at some distance from the east gate of the western town, in order to see the kashéllas, who have their residence in this quarter, pass by. There were twelve or thirteen, few of whom had more than one hundred horsemen, the most conspicuous being Fúgo ʿAlí, ʿAlí Marghí, ʿAlí Déndal, ʿAlí Ladán, Belál, Sálah, Kandíl, and Jerma. It was thought remarkable that no Shúwa had come to this festivity; but I think they rarely do, although they may sometimes come for the ʿAíd-el-kebír, or the “ngúmerí layábe.” It is rather remarkable that even this smaller festivity is celebrated here with such éclat, while in general, in Mohammedan Negroland, only the “láya” is celebrated in this way; perhaps this is due to Egyptian influence, and the custom is as old at least as the time of the King Edrís Alawóma.

I had the inexpressible delight of receiving by the courier, who arrived on the 6th of August, a considerable parcel of letters from Europe, which assured me as well of the great interest which was generally felt in our undertaking, although as yet only very little of our first proceedings had become known, as that we should be enabled to carry out our enterprise without too many privations. I therefore collected all the little energy which my sickly state had left me, and concluded the report of my journey to Ádamáwa, which caused me a great deal of pain, but which, forwarded on the 8th of August, together with the news of Mr. Overweg’s successful navigation, produced a great deal of satisfaction in Europe. Together with the letters and sundry Maltese portfolios, I had also the pleasure of receiving several numbers of the Athenæum, probably the first which were introduced into Central Africa, and which gave me great delight.

Altogether our situation in the country was not so bad. We were on the best and most friendly terms with the rulers; we were not only tolerated, but even respected by the natives, and we saw an immense field of interesting and useful labour open to us. There was only one disagreeable circumstance besides the peculiar nature of the climate; this was the fact, that our means were too small to render us quite independent of the sheikh and his vizier, for the scanty supplies which had reached us were not sufficient to provide for our wants, and were soon gone. We were scarcely able to keep ourselves afloat on our credit, and to supply our most necessary wants. Mr. Overweg, besides receiving a very handsome horse from them, had also been obliged to accept at their hands a number of tobes, which he had made presents of to the chiefs of the Búdduma, and they looked upon him as almost in their employment. He lost a great deal of his time in repairing, or rather trying to repair, their watches and other things. Such services I had declined from the beginning, and was therefore regarded as less useful; and I had occasionally to hear it said, “ʿAbd el Kerím faidanse bágo,”—“ʿAbd el Kerím is of no use whatever;” nevertheless, I myself was not quite independent of their kindness, although I sacrificed all I could in order to give from time to time a new impulse to their favour by an occasional present.

The horse which they had first given me had proved incapable of such fatigue as it had to undergo, and the animal which I had bought before going to Ádamáwa had been too much knocked up to stand another journey so soon: and after having bought two other camels and prepared myself for another expedition, I was unable, with my present means, to buy a good horse. Remembering, therefore, what the vizier had told me with regard to my first horse, I sent him word that he would greatly oblige me by making me a present of one, and he was kind enough to send me four animals from which to choose; but as none of these satisfied me, I rejected them all, intimating very simply that it was impossible, among four nags, “kádara,” to choose one horse, “fir.” This hint, after a little further explanation, my friend did not fail to understand, and in the evening of the 7th of September he sent me a horse from his own stable, which became my faithful and noble companion for the next four campaigns, and from which I did not part till, after my return from Timbúktu, in December 1854, he succumbed to sickness in Kanó.

He was the envy of all the great men, from the Sultan of Bagírmi to the chiefs of the Tademékket and Awelímmiden, near Timbúktu. His colour was a shade of grey, with beautiful light leopard-like spots; and the Kanúri were not unanimous with regard to the name which they gave it, some calling it “shéggará,” while others thought the name “kerí sassarándi” more suitable to it. In the company of mares he was incapable of walking quietly, but kept playing in order to show himself off to advantage. The Bórnu horses in general are very spirited and fond of prancing. He was an excellent “kerísa” or marcher, and “doy” or swift in the extreme, but very often lost his start by his playfulness. Of his strength, the extent of the journeys which he made with me bears ample testimony, particularly if the warlike, scientific, and victualling stores which I used to carry with me are taken into account. He was a “ngírma,” but not of the largest size. Mr. Overweg’s horse was almost half a hand higher; but, while mine was a lion in agility, my companion’s horse was not unlike a hippopotamus in plumpness.

With such a horse I prepared cheerfully for my next expedition, which I regarded in the light both of an undertaking in the interests of science, and as a medicinal course for restoring my health, which threatened to succumb in the unhealthy region of Kúkawa. Besides two Fezzáni lads, I had taken into my service two Arabs belonging to the tribe of the Welád Slimán, and whose names were Bú-Zéd and Hasén ben Hár.

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