Part 13

The blind Simsim also accompanied us to this place, and troubled me not a little with begging a remedy for his blindness. Among other chiefs, there was one whose name seemed to me rather remarkable, as he called himself El Ísfaháni; but what he or his ancestors had to do with the famous town of Ísfahán, I could not make out. Sídi Ílemín treated us well with a number of large dishes of rice, but the food being prepared without any salt, I was not able to enjoy it, and was the more grateful at being furnished in the evening with a rich supply of milk.

[Sidenote: Saturday, June 3rd.]

While my protector directed his steps towards the desert, I, with the greater part of his followers, continued my journey along the banks of the river, which had now almost become a second home to me, and with its many backwaters, islands, and cliffs, afforded me a never failing source of interest. About half a mile beyond our encampment we passed the site of a former settlement or dwelling place, after which the sandy downs receded a little from the bank, affording comfortable ground for a good number of Tawárek encampments. Having then left on our right an extensive swampy lowland, which, during the highest state of the river, becomes inundated, we reached the beginning of the rocky district, through which the river has to pass. After a very short march, we encamped in a place called Himberímme, on account of the indisposition of my friend Mohammed ben Khottár.

The slope where we halted was very handsomely adorned with fine shady tabórak, and the river was here free from rocks, being divided into two branches by a low sand bank, while a mile higher up a mighty ledge of granite rocks projected into the water. But about 1000 yards below our halting place, the river presented a very wild aspect, a considerable rocky island, consisting of immense granite blocks, together with a rocky ledge projecting from the high bank, shutting in half the breadth of the river, and forcing it, with a direction from S. 30° E. to N. 30° W., into a channel of probably not more than 350 yards broad. This remarkable place, where the river, when it is full, must form a very powerful current, is called Tin-álshiden.

The heat of the day having passed by, we continued our march, cutting off the bend of the river over a ground which was at first bare and destitute of vegetation, but after a while became overgrown with stunted talha trees, a few siwák, and a great profusion of retem; till, after a march of two miles, the river again approached on our right, being here free from rocks and bordered by a grassy lowland richly clad with the famous býrgu. On our left, a few tobacco plantations gave proof of a certain degree of industry on the part of the natives, although on this side only a nomadic encampment was to be seen, but on the opposite bank a hamlet appeared. The whole of this district belongs to Tin-sherífen.

As the river takes here a very winding course, meandering along between steep banks, we again left it at some distance on our right, ascending from a low swampy inlet upon higher ground, where we passed another Tawárek encampment, and then, as darkness was setting in, we again descended to the green shore, where the river seemed to be obstructed by islands. Parallel with the bank, a shallow grassy swamp stretched along, and from beyond the southern bank, a little higher up, a village was seen. On the largest of the islands, which was at the same time the nearest to our side, was the residence of Kára, the father of a young man named Sála, one of the pupils of El Bakáy. This was the reason why my companions, notwithstanding the darkness of the evening, and although the island was at present separated from the mainland by a deep channel, entertained the absurd idea of crossing over to the latter. It was only after much uncertainty, and a great deal of dispute, that we decided upon encamping on the narrow neck between the swamp and the river.

In this place we remained the four following days, my protector not returning until the third day, and my patience was again put to a severe trial. But, altogether, the stay here was not so uninteresting, as we received a great many visits from the inhabitants of this and the neighbouring districts. First, there came Kára, the governor of the island, a stately-looking old man, dressed in a fine white tobe, with a white shawl round his head. Having entered into conversation with me, he stated, without the subject being brought forward by myself, that about fifty years ago, a Christian had come down the river in a large boat with a white tent, and the river being then full, had passed without any accident the rocky passage ahead of us. But he added that the Kél- terárart had attacked him at Zamgoy. Park had passed this place in the morning, while he (Kára) was encamped with his people on the sandy downs of Áribínda. This chief himself, although he was not at all hospitable, had really something in his demeanour which might indicate a descent from a nobler stock, but the rest of the inhabitants of the island had much the same appearance as the less noble tribes of the Tawárek in general. However, there is no doubt that the name of the whole district, Tin-sherífen, is taken from the supposed origin of these people—from sherífs. And here in this district, as well as in the neighbouring one of Burrum, where the great river, after having made this remarkable bend into the heart of the desert, changes its easterly course into a south- easterly one, we must evidently look for the earliest Mohammedan settlers along the Niger.

I here also first came into more intimate relation with that remarkable tribe the Kél e’ Súk, who seem to deserve a great deal of attention among these nomadic tribes, although I am not yet able to elucidate all the points connected with their history, for they themselves take very little interest in historical facts, and if there exist written records they are not generally known. But this much is certain, that these Kél e’ Súk have been so called from a place, Súk, or at least generally called Súk[30], situated at the distance of five days’ journey from this point, and six from Gógó, which seems to have been a very considerable place in former times, but was destroyed in the latter half of the fifteenth century, by Sonni ʿAlí, the great predecessor of the still greater conqueror Háj Mohammed Áskíá. The original name of this place I did not succeed in making out, but it is no doubt that very place which, by El Bekrí[31] and other Arab geographers, after the name of the tribe, has been called Tademékket, and which, till the middle of the seventeenth century, ruled over this region.

This large and well-built town appears to have been the centre of various tribes, although I can scarcely conceive that my informants were right, when they asserted that their ancestors had been living there, together with the Hogár and the Kél-owí, as from this statement, if it were true, we should have in this place a much more remarkable example of a community founded by several Berber tribes together, than is afforded by the history of Ágades. Be this as it may, the name of Súk has settled upon this tribe, who still form quite a separate body, being distinguished from the neighbouring tribes for their learning and peaceable pursuits.

Besides several respectable men of this tribe, I received a visit also from Nássaru, a daughter of one of their chiefs named Khozématen. She was one of the finest women that I saw in this country. Her decent apparel contributed not a little to increase her beauty, for over her under-gown she wore an upper-garment of red and black silk, in alternate stripes, which she occasionally drew over her head. Her features were remarkable for their soft expression and regularity, but her person rather inclined to corpulency, which is highly esteemed by the Tawárek. Seeing that I took an interest in her, she, half-jokingly, proposed that I should marry her; and I declared myself ready to take her with me if one of my rather weak camels should be found able to support her weight. As a mark of distinction I presented her with a looking-glass, which I was always accustomed to give to the most handsome woman in an encampment, the rest receiving nothing but needles. She returned the next day with some of her relations, who were equally distinguished by their comeliness, and who were anxious to obtain a glimpse of me, not less than of the Sheikh El Bakáy. These noble Tawárek ladies furnished a remarkable example of the extreme liberty which the females belonging to this tribe enjoy; and I was greatly astonished to see the pipe pass continually from their mouths to those of the men, and from the latter back again into the mouths of the women. In other respects, I can only hope that they surpass the female portion of the population of Tademékka, of whose virtue El Bekrí speaks in rather doubtful terms.

Less agreeable than the company of these people was the arrival of the blind Simsim, who, it seems, had been rather disappointed in his expectation of having his sight restored, although my friend had contrived to get from him a present of a camel and a female slave. We were here also at length joined by Áhmed Wadáwi, the principal pupil of the Sheikh, whom I scarcely expected to see again; but being fully aware of the slow and deliberate character of his master, he felt convinced that he could never come too late. Altogether I was glad that he had arrived, for although apt to make great pretensions, and being inspired with too great zeal for his creed, he was nevertheless a cheerful and good-natured man, and, on account of his considerable learning and his knowledge of the Tawárek chiefs, might be of great service to me after having separated from the Sheikh. He had, besides, acquired some useful experience with regard to the difference between the straightforward and trustworthy character of a Christian, and the treachery and cunning of an Arab; for having in the beginning constantly taken the part of my former guide, Weled Ámmer Waláti, against myself, he had been cheated in return for his friendship by that rascal, and in order to get from him what was due to him, had been obliged to pursue him to Áribínda. He brought the news from Timbúktu that the rebel chief Ákhbi, whom we had been unable to persuade to return to his former allegiance, was collecting an army against Alkúttabu.

The whole time of our stay at Tin-sherífen the weather was excessively hot, the heat being felt the more severely, as there was not the slightest shade near our encampment; and as my tent was almost insupportably hot, in order to obtain a little shade, I wandered to a considerable distance up the slope which rose behind our encampment, and here lay down under a small hájilíj, or tabórak. From this spot I had an interesting view over the river, which, on account of its peculiar features, here deserved my full attention, and even more than I was able at the time to bestow upon it, as, in the absence of my protector, my companions were rather anxious about my safety. My young and cheerful friend, Mohammed ben Khottár, was suffering all this time from severe indisposition, so that I had no one to rove about with me. A little lower down, the road recedes from the bank of the river for a short distance; and hence I am not able to lay down the river, between this place and Tósaye, with that minuteness of detail which it deserves, in order to facilitate navigation. Under other circumstances, I should have made a special drawing of this remarkable locality on a larger scale; but the assertion of the natives, that Park in his large boat (His Majesty’s schooner Joliba) had passed through in December or January without accident, reassured me perfectly. Besides, as I myself had to travel all along the bank of the river by land, I had to take care not to excite too much the suspicions of the natives.

From this spot I had a clear prospect over the point where the river issuing forth from between the islands is shut in by two masses of rock, called, I think, Shabór[32] and Barrór, which obstructed it like a sort of iron gate, although the passage between them, especially at high water, appeared to be open and clear. In summer, however, during the lowest state of the river, the difficulty of the navigation is greatly increased by the sandbank which is formed a little above this strait between the islands and the bank. On the island where the chief Kála resided, also, a mass of rock, which at times in the sun light of the afternoon appeared like a snow-white boulder of quartz rock, started forth like an artificial terrace. Higher up, the river was encompassed in its winding course by steep banks; but, in one spot on the opposite shore, where the sandy downs formed a recess, a low grassy headland or island was formed, which at the time was enlivened by numbers of horses, cattle, and sheep, and was adorned by stately trees, especially a fine group of dúm-palms; for dúm-palms apparently begin to prevail here, and lower down the river are found occasionally in great numbers. The slope itself, from whence I overlooked this scenery, consisted entirely of rock. Quartz and micaslate were visible everywhere, and an uninterrupted ledge of the latter mineral set right across with an inclination towards east. The evenings were beautiful, and nothing afforded me greater delight than to walk along the fine sandy beach far into the river. During the lowest state of the water, this beach forms a junction between the main land and the island where Kála resided.

Our attention was also attracted to some young zangway, the small species of alligator, which every evening raised their cry from the swamp where they were left by their dams. It sounds like the barking of a dog, and it appeared to us as if they were bred purposely in this backwater, in order that they might not fall a prey to some larger animal in the river.

[Footnote 30: The reader need not be under the impression that the name “súk” indicates Arabic influence, for the word is of the most extensive Semitic range.]

[Footnote 31: El Bekrí, who is the only reliable authority, in the edition of de Slane, p. 181, _et seq._ The distance of nine days from Gógó, according to El Bekrí, is to be regarded as the rate for heavily laden caravans, corresponding well to six days of light camels or mehára. See the itinerary from Tawát to this place, in the Appendix. Of the (erroneous) derivation of the name of the town, I have spoken on a former occasion. See Vol. IV. p. 498.]

[Footnote 32: I am not quite certain whether Shabór may not be the name of the island and not of the rock.]

CHAP. LXXVII.

TÓSAYE, OR THE NARROWING OF THE RIVER. — BURRUM; ANCIENT RELATION TO EGYPT. — GREAT SOUTH-SOUTH-EASTERLY REACH.

At length, in the course of the 8th, my protector returned from his herd of camels, or, as the Arabs call it, “kissib,” bringing with him seven fresh camels. He was accompanied by a nobleman of the country, and a near relative of his, of the name of Sídi ʿAlí. Soon after his arrival, he came expressly to ask me, whether one of our steamboats would be able to cross this rocky passage, and I told him that, as far as I had been able to investigate the character of the locality from this point, I thought there was not much difficulty for a small boat or launch, at least during the highest state of the river. In the evening, he sent me a small bullock to cut up for our journey, and a short time afterwards a camel, in order to supply the place of the most exhausted of my animals, and it now appeared as if we were fully prepared to pursue our journey at a more accelerated rate.

[Sidenote: Friday, June 9th.]

Having taken leave of all the new friends whose acquaintance I had made here, I started at a rather late hour, first keeping along the shore, but after having proceeded about 1400 yards, turning away and with a north-easterly direction entering the stony slope of the desert plateau, which here consisted of black sandstone in a state of decomposition. At this spot, where I was obliged to keep away from the bank, the great rocky ledge, to which Barrór belongs, crosses the river. This rock not being illumined to-day by the sun, exhibited the same black character which is peculiar to the whole locality, and there is no doubt that it intercepts the navigation for larger boats during a great part of the year.

The bare rocky slope was succeeded by sandy downs, which surrounded and enclosed small irregular vales, the bottom of which was formed of small black stones. A little further on we passed the locality called Tin- rássen, where Sadáktu had once vanquished a superior force led by Ákhbi, who, notwithstanding the close relation which subsisted between them, had come to attack him. The women, hurrying forth from the encampment, had met their kinsfolk with bare breasts, which they held forth to them as having suckled their kindred, and implored them, for the sake of their near relationship, not to shed the blood of their own kinsmen. But this appeal for mercy being without effect, Sadáktu and his handful of men, inspired with fear for the lives of their wives and children, and fighting with the courage of despair, had beaten the superior force of his arrogant relation, and killed nine free men of his tribe.

A little more than half a mile beyond Tin-rássen we again reached the river, at that remarkable place called Tósaye, or Tósé, where the noble Niger is compressed between steep banks to a breadth perhaps of not more than 150 yards, but of such a depth that, as I have before observed, the bottom has not been found by the natives. Here the Sheikh, who, as in general, had slept till late in the morning, overtook us, and seemed much interested when I told him that I thought a small strong built steamer might safely cross this obstructed passage, as in the case of the current being too strong, it might be assisted by chains fastened to the rocks. The locality is of the greatest importance, on account of the intercourse between the desert and the province of Libtáko, as the Arabs of Ázawád in general prefer crossing the river at this point, which, although very deep, is easily passed by the camels and cattle, while in other places they have to swim for miles.

Immediately beyond this narrowing of the river the sandy downs cease, and a low stony level, of black, dismal colour, stretched out before us. The river, winding along this tract in a north-easterly bend, and illumined by the dazzling light of the sun, scarcely appeared to be the same large and noble stream which I had admired higher up. The black stony ground was torn by several small channels, and being only sparingly clad with the sad-looking poisonous bush the “fernán,” exhibited a very melancholy appearance. But gradually as we descended from this rough ground upon the green shore, clothed with the rank grass of the býrgu, the river again began to widen, and to assume its former noble character, while a little further on a large island, called “Ádar- n-háut,” was formed, separated from the main land by a narrow channel. We encamped opposite the place where the latter again joins the principal branch, and where, in the present low state of the river, a ledge of rock was seen projecting a considerable distance into the water, and numerous isolated cliffs starting forth from its middle course. I chose my camping-ground a few hundred yards from the shore, among the trees, where we found some shelter during the hot hours of the day; and I even remained here during the following night, although all the people tried to frighten me with the assurance, that the lions which infest the neighbourhood would not leave a bone of my horses and camels.

We were visited in this encampment by the inhabitants of the opposite island, who, although belonging to the mixed tribe of the Rumá, have a much better appearance than their brethren in Bamba. Their chief, of the name of Mohammed, was greatly distinguished by his fine glossy skin, his beautiful black and lively eyes, and his regular Circassian features. The dress of these people, however, is everywhere the same,—white shirts of the commonest and coarsest make, sewed together of narrow strips (only persons of higher rank adorn them with a little silk embroidery), and long white trowsers, besides a miserable bandage of native cotton tied round the head, over which some of them wore another bandage of red cloth. All of them had slung over their shoulders the open leathern belt with which they gird their waists in case of emergency. The intelligence of these people seemed very limited, and it was impossible for me to enter into any serious conversation with them. I was, however, fortunately enabled to buy some rice with cotton strips.

[Sidenote: Saturday, June 10th.]