Part 2
Of course this state of the upper river, although it does not reach always the same level, cannot fail to exercise an influence also upon the lower part, where it is called Kwára, and where it has been visited repeatedly by Englishmen. But although, on account of their being unaware of this character of the river, they have not paid much attention to its features at the beginning of the hot season, and have even rarely visited it at that period, nevertheless Mr. Laird, who spent several months in the Kwára, has not failed to observe a phenomenon which exactly corresponds to the state of the river which I have just described. For he records[5] the surprising fact, which formerly must have been quite unintelligible, but which now receives its full illustration, namely, that the river _at Iddá began to rise on the 22nd of March._ This, in my opinion, he erroneously attributes to the rains up the country, as there are no rains whatever during the whole of March, and only a few drops in April; but it is evidently the effect of the waters in the upper and wide part of the river at length beginning to decrease about the middle of February, if we take the current at from 2½ to 3 miles, as the windings of the river extend to not much less than 2000 miles between Kábara and Iddá. The elevation of Timbúktu above the level of the sea I assume to be about 900 feet.
It was on the 4th of January that the first boat from Kábara approached close to the walls of the town of Timbúktu; and, as the immediate result of such a greater facility of intercourse, the supply of corn became more plentiful, and, in consequence, much cheaper: the sʿaa of millet being sold for 40 shells, and the suníye, that is to say, more than two hundred pounds’ weight, for 3000, or one Spanish dollar, certainly a very low rate; while I myself, as a foreigner and a stranger, had to pay 3750. The high state of the waters was naturally of the greatest interest to me; and, in order to satisfy my curiosity, the Sheikh took me out on the 9th. Emerging from the town at about the middle of the western wall, where formerly the báb el gibleh[6] was situated, we went first to the nearest creek of the river, but found here no boats; and then crossing an extremely barren and stony level reached another branch of the creek, where eight or ten smaller boats, without a covering or cabin, were lying; the innermost corner of this creek not being more than four or five hundred yards distant from the Great Mosque, or Jíngeré-bér. All the people asserted that the river, at Kábara, had now reached its highest level, and even affirmed that it had begun to fall here on the 7th; but, nevertheless, it became evident that the waters were still rising during the whole of the month,—almost endangering the safety of the town. On this occasion I learned that a great inundation in 1640 had flooded a considerable part of the town, and converted into a lake the central and lowest quarter, which is called Bagíndi, a name derived, as is asserted, from the tank thus formed having been enlivened by hippopotami.[7]
Interesting as was that day’s excursion it cost me dear; for being obliged, not only to be armed myself, but also to have an armed servant with me, I greatly excited the hostile feelings of the merchants from Morocco, and especially of that proud nobleman, ʿAbd e’ Salám, who went about among the great men of the town, saying, that in Morocco we, the Europeans, or rather the English, were not allowed to wear arms. But to show the absurdity of this assertion, I stated that while travelling in Morocco we received armed horsemen for an escort, while here, where there was no settled form of government, we had to protect ourselves. He then spread the rumour that an armed English vessel had ascended the river as far as Gógó; and this curious report was backed with such strong assertions that my own servant, ʿAlí el Ágeren, felt convinced of its truth, and thought it strange when I attempted to prove its absurdity.
But notwithstanding this hostile feeling, ʿAbd e’ Salám deemed it prudent to send, next day, his friend, Múláy el Méhedí, in order to excuse himself for the expressions which he had used a few days before with regard to me. It was this man, Múláy el Méhedí, with whom I should have liked to be able to converse on friendly terms, as he was a person of intelligence, and even possessed some little knowledge of astronomy. Indeed, I was not a little astonished when, conversing with him one day about the situation of Timbúktu, he came out with the statement that the town was situated about 18° N. lat., without my having thrown out the slightest hint in this respect.
All this time the whole of the surrounding country was in a most disturbed state, owing to several expeditions, or forays, which were going on, especially by the restless tribe of the Welád ʿAlúsh. They had lately taken 600 camels from the Welád Mebárek, and had now turned their predatory incursions into another direction.
On the 12th of January we again went to the tents, which had now been pitched in another spot, called Ingómaren, at a distance of about six miles a little S. from E.; but this time our stay in the encampment was very unlucky for me in several respects. On the 13th I felt tolerably well, and had a cheerful conversation with my protector about my approaching departure, when he sent me several presents, such as a large cover for the top of the tent[8], called “sarámmu” by the Songhay, “e’ béni erréga” by the Moors hereabout, and several leather pillows; but on the 14th, a little after noon, I was seized with such a sudden and severe attack of fever as I had never experienced before, accompanied by violent shivering fits, which made my kind host fear that I had been poisoned. I had drunk, a short time before, some sour milk brought me by a Berbúshi, that is to say, a man who, although intimately attached to the family of the Sheikh, originally belonged to the tribe of the Berabísh, whose chief murdered Major Laing. Although I myself had no suspicion that the milk which I had drunk had in any way contributed to my sudden attack of illness, yet as that man had some private animosity against me, and did not seem content with a present which I had made him in return for his small gift, I became so irritated, that I ordered him away in a very unceremonious manner, which caused a most unpleasant scene; for, at this conjuncture, all the people, including my own servants and even my very best friends amongst the Sheikh’s people, without paying any regard to my feeble state, gave vent to their feelings against me as a Christian.
But the Sheikh himself did not for a moment change his kind disposition, sending me tea repeatedly, and calling frequently to see how I was getting on. Fortunately, a tranquil night’s repose restored me again to health, and the following morning my friends came to me, one after the other, in order to beg my pardon for their neglect. While we were conversing on the preparations for my journey, a messenger brought the news of the arrival of a very intimate friend of the Sheikh,—Mohammed ben ʿAbd-Alláhi el Fútáwi,—who had come, with a numerous suite, in order to stay some time with the Sheikh, and, if possible, to be cured by me of some serious disease: and the prospect of soon leaving this quarter was greatly darkened by this circumstance.
[Sidenote: January 15th.]
This was one of those rainy days which are said not to be unusual towards the end of January and the beginning of February in this quarter along the river, though, in the other parts of Negroland that I had visited, I had never beheld anything of the kind. But the quantity of rain that fell even here was very little, for the sky, which had been cloudy in the morning, cleared up about noon; and although in the afternoon it became again overcast, with thunder in the distance followed by lightning towards evening, yet there fell only a few drops of rain in the course of the night.
On the 16th, having made a good breakfast on a goat roasted whole before the fire, we returned again into the town, where I was desired to cure a man of a disease over which I had no power. The character and position of the person would have rendered it a circumstance of the highest importance to me if I had been able to do so. The chronic disease under which Mohammed ben ʿAbd-Alláhi, for this is the person of whom I speak, was labouring, cast a melancholy gloom over him. I admired his manners, and the fine expression of his features; but I was disappointed to find that, although well versed in his religious books, he did not possess any historical knowledge as to the former state of these countries, which formed an object of the highest interest to me. The arrival of this person made my protector forget all the thoughts of my immediate departure.
Besides this circumstance, nothing of interest happened for some days, all the people exhorting me to patience; and, my departure being again put off, fresh attempts were made to convert me, even by my friends, who from sheer friendship could not bear to see me adhere to a creed which they thought erroneous. But I withstood all their attacks, and at times even ventured to ridicule freely some of their superstitious notions. I was far from laughing at the chief principles of their doctrine; but, as they always recurred in their arguments to their belief in sorcery and demons, I declared one day that, as for us, we had made all the demons our “khóddemán.” This is an expression with which these people are wont to denote the degraded and servile tribes; and I represented the Europeans as having obtained a victory over the spirits, by ascending in balloons into the higher regions, and from thence firing at them with rifles. The idea that the Christians must have subjected to their will the demoniacal powers, occurs very easily to the mind of the Mohammedan, who does not understand how the former are able to manufacture all the nice things which issue from their hands.
Meanwhile I was glad to break off my relations with my former friend the Waláti, who had recently returned from a journey to Áribínda, and who came to ask me officially whether he was to accompany me on my home journey or not; but although I told him plainly, that after all that had happened he could no longer be my companion, I treated him with more generosity than he deserved.
At the same time, I thought it also prudent to cultivate the good will of my servant ʿAlí el Ágeren, although he had almost entirely separated himself from me, and left me to my fate, since he had become fully aware of the dangerous nature of my position. I demanded from him no sort of service, though his salary of nine dollars a month went on all the time. However, being rather short of cash, and not being able to procure a loan from the people to whom I had been recommended, I was glad to obtain from a friendly Ghadámsi merchant, of the name of Mohammed ben ʿAlí ben Táleb, about 50,000 shells, equal to 13⅓ mithkál, reckoned at 3800 shells each, and I afterwards was obliged to add another small sum, making the whole 25 mithkáls.
In this place I think it well to give a short sketch of the commercial relations of Timbúktu, though it cannot make the slightest pretension to completeness, as I did not enter into such free intercourse with the natives as would have enabled me to combine a sufficient number of facts into a graphic view of the commercial life of the city. The people with whom I had most intercourse could offer little or no information on the subject. My situation in Kanó had been very different.
[Illustration]
The great feature which distinguishes the market of Timbúktu from that of Kanó is the fact, that Timbúktu is not at all a manufacturing town, while the emporium of Háusa fully deserves to be classed as such. Almost the whole life of the city is based upon foreign commerce, which, owing to the great northerly bend of the Niger, finds here the most favoured spot for intercourse, while at the same time that splendid river enables the inhabitants to supply all their wants from without; for native corn is not raised here in sufficient quantities to feed even a very small proportion of the population, and almost all the victuals are imported by water-carriage from Sansándi and the neighbourhood.
The only manufactures carried on in the city, as far as fell under my observation, are confined to the art of the blacksmith, and to a little leatherwork. Some of these articles, such as provision or luggage bags, cushions, small leather pouches for tobacco, and gun-cloths, especially the leather bags, are very neat, as shown in the accompanying wood-cuts; but even these are mostly manufactured by Tawárek, and especially females, so that the industry of the city is hardly of any account. It was formerly supposed that Timbúktu was distinguished on account of its weaving[9], and that the export of dyed shirts from hence was considerable; but I have already had an opportunity of showing that this was entirely a mistake, almost the whole clothing of the natives themselves, especially that of the wealthier classes, being imported either from Kanó[10] or from Sansándi, besides the calico imported from England. The export of the produce of Kanó, especially by way of Árawán, extends to the very border of the Atlantic, where it comes into contact with the considerable import of Malabar cloth by way of St. Louis, or Ndér, on the Senegal, while the dyed shirts from Sansándi, which, as far as I had an opportunity of observing, seem to be made of foreign or English calico, and not of native cotton, do not appear to be exported to a greater distance. These shirts are generally distinguished by their rich ornament of coloured silk, and look very pretty; and I am sorry that I was obliged to give away, as, a present a specimen which I intended to bring home with me. The people of Timbúktu are very experienced in the art of adorning their clothing with a fine stitching of silk, but this is done on a very small scale, and even these shirts are only used at home. There is, however, a very considerable degree of industry exercised by the natives of some of the neighbouring districts, especially Fermágha, who produce very excellent woollen blankets, and carpets of various colours, which form a most extensive article of consumption with the natives.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The foreign commerce has especially three great high-roads: that along the river from the south-west (for lower down the river there is at present scarcely any commerce at all), which comprises the trade proceeding from various points; and two roads from the north, that from Morocco on the one hand, and that from Ghadámes on the other. In all this commerce, gold forms the chief staple, although the whole amount of the precious metal exported from this city appears to be exceedingly small, if compared with a European standard. It probably does not exceed an average of 20,000_l._ sterling per year.[11] The gold is brought either from Bambúk or from Búre, but from the former place in a larger quantity. The gold from the country of the Wángaráwa does not reach this market, but, as it seems, at present is directly exported to that part of the southern coast which on this account is called the Gold Coast. The species of gold from Bambúk is of a more yellow colour; that from Búre is rather whitish; and that from Wángara has a greenish hue. Most of this gold, I think, is brought into the town in rings. I do not remember to have seen or heard of gold dust, or “tibber,” being brought to market in small leathern bags, such as Shabíni and other people describe, containing about one ounce, equal to twenty-five dollars in value. But, nevertheless, a considerable amount of this article must come into market, as most of the gold dust which comes to Ghadámes and Tripoli passes through Timbúktu, while another portion goes directly from Sansándi to Árawán.[12]
It was evidently in consequence of the influence of the Arabs, that the scale of the mithkál[13] was introduced in the trade in gold; but it is a very general term, which may signify very different quantities, and thus we find various kinds of mithkáls used in Negroland, especially those of Ágades, Timbúktu, and Mango, the Mandingo place between Yendí and the Niger, the former of which is the smallest, and equal, as I have stated in the proper place, to 1000 shells of Háusa standard, although in the present decayed state of the town of Ágades, where all the gold trade has ceased, it possesses rather an imaginary value. The mithkál of Timbúktu contains the weight of 24 grains of the kharúb tree, or 96 of wheat, and is worth from 3000 to 4000 shells.[14] The mithkál of Mango is equal to 1¼ of that of Timbúktu. Besides rings, very handsome ornaments are worked of gold; but, as far as I could learn, most of this workmanship comes from Waláta, which is still celebrated on this account.[15]
The next article that forms one of the chief staples in Timbúktu, and in some respects even more so than gold, is salt, which, together with gold, formed articles of exchange all along the Niger from the most ancient times.[16] It is brought from Taödénni, a place whose situation has been tolerably well established by M. Caillié’s journey[17], and the mines of which have been worked, as we know from Áhmed Bábá, since the year 1596, when the former mines of Tegháza, situated some seventy miles further to the north, were given up. These salt mines of Tegháza appear to have been worked from very remote times, or at least before the eleventh century; and there can be little doubt that the mines of Tátentál, described by the excellent geographer El Bekrí as situated twenty days’ journey from Sijilmésa, and two from the beginning of the desert, are identical with Tegháza. Even at that time both Sigilmésa and Ghánata were provided from here, while at least the eastern and original portion of Songhay was supplied at that early period from the mines of Taútek, six days from Tademékka.[18]
In Taödénni the salt, which covers a very extensive tract of ground in the district “El-Jóf,” is formed in five layers, or “úje,” the uppermost of which is called el-wára; the second, el-bentí; the third, el- hammamíye; the fourth, el-káhela, or the black one; and the lowest, which is embedded in the water, el-kámera, or el-bédha. The upper of these layers are of little value, and the most in request is the fourth layer, or el-káhela, the colour of which is a most beautiful intermixture of black and white, like a species of marble. The ground is let out by the “káíd,” who resides here, and whose name at the present time is Zén, in small portions, where the diggings are made, and he levies a tribute called the khomús from each hofra, or hole, the rest being sold by the workmen.
The largest pieces of salt which are dug out here measure 3 feet 5 inches in length, 13 inches in height, and 2⅓ inches in thickness, but they are of very unequal size, varying from 50 to 65 lb. in weight; this, however, is only half of one layer, each layer being sawn into two slabs. The price of these slabs of course varies greatly at different times, but, as far as I became aware, in general does not reach such an exorbitant price as has been mentioned by Leo Africanus, Mr. Jackson, General Daumas, and others. When lowest, the price of each middle-sized slab does not exceed 3000 shells; and the highest price which was paid during my residence in the town was 6000, the price always rising towards spring, when the salt caravans become scarce on account of the number of blood-flies which infest the town and the neighbourhood of the river. Of course, when this great highroad is shut up for a long period, in consequence of feuds between the various tribes, the price may for a time rise much higher, but such cases must be quite exceptional.
The trade in salt on a large scale, as far as regards Timbúktu, is entirely carried on by means of the túrkedí, or the cloth for female apparel, manufactured in Kanó; the merchants of Ghadámes bartering in the market of Árawán six túrkedí, or “mélhafa,” for nine slabs, or “hajra,” of salt, on condition that the Arabs bring the salt ready to market; or twelve, including the carriage to Taödénni. If they themselves then carry the salt to Timbúktu, they sell there eight slabs of salt for six mithkál of gold; but if they carry it to Sansándi, each slab of salt fetches two mithkál.
But the expense of this journey up the river is very great, on account of the boats being obliged to unship their merchandise at the islands of Jafarábe, whence it is taken to Sansándi on the backs of asses, and on account of the ʿashúr, which is levied by the Fúlbe, the expense is equal to about thirty-three per cent; so that, out of every six slabs of salt transported to Sansándi, two are required for covering the expense of transport. Thus, each túrkedí bought in Kanó for about 1800 shells fetches two mithkál of gold when sold in Sansándi, while in Timbúktu it fetches from one to one and one sixth. This certainly, when we take into account the price of gold in Ghadámes and Tripoli, is a considerable profit: but the road which this merchandise takes from Kanó to Ghát, thence to Tawát, and from that place to Timbúktu, is very circuitous and expensive, and requires the agency and cooperation of several persons, no single merchant undertaking the whole of the traffic.
I have already remarked, in the proper place, that Libtáko, or rather Dóre, forms the market-place for the salt for supplying the provinces to the south-east of Timbúktu. It is transported thither by a direct road by way of Tósaye or Gógó, without touching at Timbúktu; while, with regard to the region to the south-west, Sansándi is the great entrepôt for this commerce. The trade in this article, which, in countries where it is wanting entirely, becomes so precious, and the more so the greater its bulk, is, as I said before, of very ancient date in this western part of Negroland. But the salt was brought at that period, not from Taödénni, but from the neighbouring salt mines of Tegháza; and, in the former period, found its entrepôt in Ghánata and Waláta.