Part 28
The occurrences of the day were of so varied a nature, opening to me a glance into an entirely new region of life, that I had ample material for my evening’s meditation, when I lay stretched out on my mat before the door of my dark and close room. Nor was my bodily comfort neglected, the sultan being so kind and attentive as to send me a very palatable dish of “finkáso,” a sort of thick pancake made of wheat, and well buttered, which, after the unpalatable food I had had in Tintéllust, appeared to me the greatest luxury in the world.
[Sidenote: Saturday, October 12th.]
Having thus obtained a glance into the interior of the town, I was anxious to get a view of the whole of it, and ascending, the following morning, the terrace of our house, obtained my object entirely, the whole town being spread out before my eyes, with the exception of the eastern quarter. The town is built on a level, which is only interrupted by small hills formed of rubbish heaped up in the midst of it by the negligence of the people. Excepting these, the line formed by the flat- terraced houses is interrupted only by the Mesállaje (which formed my basis for laying down the plan of the town), besides about fifty or fifty-five dwellings raised to two stories, and by three dúm-trees and five or six talha-trees. Our house also had been originally provided with an upper story, or rather with a single garret—for generally the upper story consists of nothing else; but it had yielded to time, and only served to furnish amusement to my foolish friend Mohammed, who never failed, when he found me on the terrace, to endeavour to throw me down the breach. Our old close-handed friend Ánnur did not seem to care much for the appearance of his palace in the town, and kept his wife here on rather short allowance. By and by, as I went every day to enjoy this panorama, I was able to make a faithful view of the western quarter of the town as seen from hence, which will give the reader a more exact idea of the place than any verbal description could do.
[Illustration: Drawn by J. M. Bernatz, from a Sketch by Dr. Barth.
M. & N. Hanhart, lith. et impt.
ÁGADES.
Octr. 12th. 1850.]
About noon the amanókal sent his musicians to honour me and my companions with a performance; they were four or five in number, and were provided with the instruments usual in Sudán, in imitation of the Arabs. More interesting was the performance of a single “maimólo,” who visited us after we had honourably rewarded the royal musicians, and accompanied his play, on a three-stringed “mólo” or guitar, with an extemporaneous song.
My companions then took me to the house of the kádhi, after having paid a short visit to the camel-market. The kádhi, or here rather alkáli, who lives a little south-west from the mosque, in a house entirely detached on all sides, was sitting with the mufti in the vestibule of his dwelling, where sentence is pronounced, and after a few compliments, proceeded to hear the case of my companions, who had a lawsuit against a native of the town, named Wá-n-seres, and evidently of Berber origin. Evidence was adduced to the effect that he had sold a she-camel which had been stolen from the Kél-owí, while he (the defendant) on his part proved that he had bought it from a man who swore that it was not a stolen camel. The pleas of both parties having been heard, the judge decided in favour of Wá-n-seres. The whole transaction was carried on in Temáshight, or rather in Uraghíye. Then came another party, and, while their case was being heard, we went out and sat down in front of the house, under the shade of a sort of verandah consisting of mats supported by long stakes, after which we took leave of the kádhi, who did not seem to relish my presence, and afterwards showed no very friendly feelings towards me.
While my lazy companions wanted to go home, I fortunately persuaded Mohammed, after much reluctance, to accompany me through the southern part of the town, where, lonely and deserted as it seemed to be, it was not prudent for me to go alone, as I might have easily got into some difficulty. My servant Amánkay was still quite lame with the guineaworm; and Mohammed the Tunisian shushán had reached such a pitch of insolence when he saw me alone among a fanatical population, that I had given him up entirely.
First, leaving the fáda to our right, we went out through the “kófa-n- Alkáli;” for here the walls, which have been swept away entirely on the east side of the town, have still preserved some degree of elevation, though in many places one may easily climb over them. On issuing from the gate I was struck with the desolate character of the country on this side of the town, though it was enlivened by women and slaves going to fetch water from the principal well (which is distant about half a mile from the gate), all the water inside the town being of bad quality for drinking. At some distance from the gate were the ruins of an extensive suburb called Ben Gottára, half covered with sand, and presenting a very sorry spectacle. It was my design to go round the southern part of the town; but my companion either was, or pretended to be, too much afraid of the Kél-geres, whose encampment lay at no great distance from the walls. So we re-entered it, and followed the northern border of its deserted southern quarter, where only a few houses are still inhabited. Here I found three considerable pools of stagnant water, which had collected in deep hollows from whence, probably, the materials for building had been taken, though their form was a tolerably-regular oval. They have each a separate name, the westernmost being called from the Masráta, who have given their name to the whole western quarter as well as to a small gate still in existence; the next southwards from the kófa-n-Alkáli is called (in Emgedesíye) “Masráta-hogú-me,” for the three languages—the Temáshight or Tarkíye, the Góber or Háusa language, and the Songhay- or Sonrhay-kini—are very curiously mixed together in the topography of this town, the natural consequence of the mixture of these three different national elements. This mixture of languages was well calculated to make the office of interpreter in this place very important, and the class of such men a very numerous one.
In the Masráta pool, which is the largest of the three, two horses were swimming, while women were busy washing clothes. The water has a strong taste of salt, which is also the case with two of the three wells still in use within the town. Keeping from the easternmost pool (which is called, like the whole quarter around, Terjemáne, from the interpreters whose dwellings were chiefly hereabout) a little more to the south-east, I was greatly pleased at finding among the ruins in the south-eastern quarter, between the quarters Akáfan árina and Imurdán, some very well- built and neatly-polished houses, the walls of which were of so excellent workmanship, that even after having been deprived of their roofs, for many years perhaps, they had sustained scarcely any injury. One of them was furnished with ornamented niches, and by the remains of pipes, and the whole arrangement, bore evident traces of warm baths.
Music and song diverted us in the evening, while we rested on our mats in the different corners of our courtyard.
[Sidenote: Sunday, October 13th.]
My Kél-owí companions regaled me with a string of dates from Fáshi, the westernmost oasis of the Tébu or, as the Tawárek call them, Berauni. But instead of indulging myself in this luxury, I laid it carefully aside as a treat for my visitors, to whom I had (so small were my means at present) neither coffee nor sugar to offer. I then accompanied my friends once more to the Alkáli; but the litigation which was going on being tedious, I left them, and returned quite alone through the town, sitting down a moment with the Tawatíye, who generally met at the house of the Emgédesi Ídder, a sort of Tawáti agent, and an intelligent man.
When I returned to our house I found there a very interesting young man of the tribe of the Íghdalén, with a round face, very regular and agreeable features, fine lively black eyes, and an olive complexion only a few shades darker than that of an Italian peasant. His hair was black, and about four inches long, standing upright, but cut away all round the ears, which gave it a still more bristling appearance. I hoped to see him again, but lost sight of him entirely. The Arabs call these people Arab-Tawárek, indicating that they are a mixed race between the Arab and Berber nation, and their complexion agrees well with this designation; but it is remarkable that they speak a Sónghay dialect. They possess scarcely anything except camels, and are regarded as a kind of Merábetín.
I afterwards went to call upon our old friend Ánnur Karamí from Aghwau, who had come to Ágades a day or two before us, and had accompanied me also on my visit to the sultan. He lived, together with my amiable young friend the Tinýlkum Slimán, in the upper story, or soro, of a house, and, when I called, was very busy selling fine Egyptian sheep-leather called kurna (which is in great request here, particularly that of a green colour) to a number of lively females, who are the chief artisans in leatherwork. Some of them were of tolerably good appearance, with light complexion and regular Arab features. When the women were gone, Ánnur treated me with fura or ghussub-water; and young Slimán, who felt some little remorse for not having been able to withstand the charms of the Emgédesíye coquettes, told me that he was about to marry a Ma- Ásbenchi[149] girl, and that the wedding would be celebrated in a few days.
As to the fura, people who eat or rather drink it, together, squat down round the bowl, where a large spoon, the “lúdde,” sometimes very neatly worked, goes round, everybody taking a spoonful and passing the spoon to his neighbour. Subjoined is a drawing of this drinking-spoon as well as of the common spoon, both of ordinary workmanship.
[Illustration]
The houses in Ágades do not possess all the convenience which one would expect to find in houses in the North of Europe; but here, as in many Italian towns, the principle of the “da per tutto,” which astonished Göthe so much at Rivoli on the Lago di Garda, is in full force, being greatly assisted by the many ruined houses which are to be found in every quarter of the town. But the free nomadic inhabitant of the wilderness does not like this custom, and rather chooses to retreat into the open spots outside the town. The insecurity of the country and the feuds generally raging oblige them still to congregate, even on such occasions. When they reach some conspicuous tree, the spears are all stuck into the ground, and the party separates behind the bushes; after which they again meet together under the tree, and return in solemn procession into the town.
By making such little excursions, I became acquainted with the shallow depressions which surround Ágades and which are not without importance for the general relations of the town, while they afford fodder for any caravan visiting the market, and also supply the inhabitants with very good water. The name of the depression to the N. is Tagúrast; that to the S.W., Mérmeru; towards the S.E., Amelúli, with a few kitchen- gardens; and another a little further on, S.S.E., Tésak-n-tálle, while at a greater distance, to the W. is Tára-bére[150] (meaning “the wide area” or plain, “babá-n-sárari”). Unfortunately, the dread my companions had of the Kél-gerés did not allow me to visit the valleys at a greater distance, the principal of which is that called el Hakhsás, inhabited by Imghád, and famous for its vegetable productions, with which the whole town is supplied.
Mohammed the Foolish succeeded in the evening in getting me into some trouble, which gave him great delight; for seeing that I took more than common interest in a national dance accompanied with a song, which was going on at some distance E.N.E. from our house, he assured me that Hamma was there, and had told him that I might go and join in their amusement. Unfortunately, I was too easily induced; and hanging only a cutlass over my shoulder, I went thither unaccompanied, sure of finding my protector in the merry crowd. It was about ten o’clock at night, the moon shining very brightly on the scene. Having first viewed it from some distance, I approached very near, in order to observe the motions of the dancers. Four young men, placed opposite to each other in pairs, were dancing with warlike motions, and, stamping the ground violently with the left foot, turned round in a circle, the motions being accompanied by the energetic clapping of hands of a numerous ring of spectators. It was a very interesting sight, and I should have liked to stay longer; but finding that Hamma was not present, and that all the people were young, and many of them buzawe, I followed the advice of ʿAbdu, one of Ánnur’s slaves, who was among the crowd, to withdraw as soon as possible. I had, however, retraced my steps but a short way, when, with the warcry of Islam, and drawing their swords, all the young men rushed after me. Being, however, a short distance in advance, and fortunately not meeting with any one in the narrow street, I reached our house without being obliged to make use of my weapon; but my friends the Kél-owí seeing me in trouble, had thrown the chain over the door of our house, and, with a malicious laugh, left me outside with my pursuers, so that I was obliged to draw my cutlass in order to keep them at bay, though, if they had made a serious attack, I should have fared ill enough with my short blunt European weapon against their long sharp swords.
I was rather angry with my barbarous companions, particularly with Mohammed; and when after a little delay they opened the door, I loaded my pistols and threatened to shoot the first man that troubled me. However, I soon felt convinced that the chief fault was my own; and in order to obliterate the bad impression which this little adventure was likely to make in the town, particularly as the great Mohammedan feast was at hand, which of course could not but strengthen greatly the prejudice against a Christian, I resolved to stay at home the next few days. This I could do the more easily, as the terrace of our house allowed me to observe all that was going on in the place.
I therefore applied myself entirely for a few days to the study of the several routes which, with the assistance of ʿAbdalla, I had been able to collect from different people, and which will be given in the Appendix, and to the language of Ágades. For though I had left all my books behind at Tintéllust, except that volume of “Prichard’s Researches” which treats of Africa, I had convinced myself, from the specimens which he gives of the language of Timbúktu, that the statement of my friends from Tawát with regard to the identity of the languages of the two places was quite correct,—only with this qualification, that here this language had been greatly influenced by intercourse with the Berbers, from whom sundry words were borrowed, while the Arabic seemed to have had little influence beyond supplanting the numerals from four upwards. I was also most agreeably surprised and gratified to find this identity confirmed by the fact that the people of Ágades give the Tawárek in general the name under which that tribe of them which lives near Timbúktu and along the Niger had become known to Mungo Park in those quarters where the language of Timbúktu is spoken. This was indeed very satisfactory, as the native name of that powerful tribe is entirely different; for the Surka, as they are called by Mungo Park, are the same as the Awelímmiden, of whom I had already heard so much in Asben (the inhabitants of which country seemed to regard them with much dread), and with whom I was afterwards to enter into the most intimate relations.
While residing in Ágades, I was not yet aware of all the points of information which I have been able to collect in the course of my travels; and I was at a loss to account for the identity of language in places so widely separated from each other by immense tracts of desert, and by countries which seemed to have been occupied by different races. But while endeavouring, in the further course of my journey, to discover as far as possible the history of the nations with whom I had to deal, I found the clue for explaining this apparently-marvellous phenomenon, and shall lay it before my readers in the following chapter.
To the Tawáti ʿAbd-alla I was indebted for information on a variety of interesting matters, which I found afterwards confirmed in every respect. In a few points his statements were subject to correction, and still more to improvement; but in no single case did I find that he had deviated from the truth. I state this deliberately, in order to show that care must be taken to distinguish between information collected systematically by a native enjoying the entire confidence of his informant, and who, from his knowledge of the language and the subject about which he inquires, is able to control his informant’s statements, and that which is picked up incidentally by one who scarcely knows what he asks.
But to return to my diary, the visits paid me by the other people of Tawát became less frequent, as I had no coffee to treat them with; but I was rather glad of this circumstance, as my time was too short for labouring in that wide field of new information which opened before me, and it was necessary to confine myself at present to narrower limits. In this respect I was extremely fortunate in having obeyed my impulse to visit this place, which, however desolate it may appear to the traveller who first enters it, is still the centre of a large circle of commercial intercourse, while Tintéllust is nothing but a small village, important merely from the character of the chief who resides in it, and where even those people who know a little about the country are afraid to communicate that very little. I would advise any traveller, who should hereafter visit this country, to make a long stay in this place, if he can manage to do so in comfort; for I am sure that there still remains to be collected in Ágades a store of the most valuable and interesting information.
In the afternoon of the 15th of October (the eve of the great holiday), ten chiefs of the Kél-gerés, on horseback, entered the town; and towards evening news was brought that Astáfidet, the chief of the Kél-owí residing in Ásodi, was not far off, and would make his solemn entry early in the morning. My companions therefore were extremely busy in getting ready and cleaning their holiday dress, or “yadó;” and Hamma could not procure tassels enough to adorn his high red cap, in order to give to his short figure a little more height. Poor fellow! he was really a good man, and one of the best of the Kél-owí; and the news of his being killed, in the sanguinary battle which was fought between his tribe and the Kél-geres in 1854, grieved me not a little. In the evening there was singing and dancing (“wargi” and “wása”) all over the town, and all the people were merry except the followers of Mákita or Ímkiten, “the Pretender;” and the sultan ʿAbd el Káder was obliged to imprison three chiefs of the Itísan, who had come to urge Mákita’s claims.
It was on this occasion that I learnt that the mighty king of Ágades had not only a common prison, “gida-n-damré,” wherein he might confine the most haughty chiefs, but that he even exercised over them the power of life and death, and that he dispensed the favours of a terrible dungeon bristling with swords and spears standing upright, upon which he was authorized to throw any distinguished malefactor. This latter statement, of the truth of which I had some doubt, was afterwards confirmed to me by the old chief Ánnur. In any case, however, such a cruel punishment cannot but be extremely rare.
[Sidenote: Wednesday, October 16th.]
The 10th of Dhú el kadhi, 1266, was the first day of the great festival ʿAid el kebír, or Salla-léja (the feast of the sacrifice of the sheep), which in these regions is the greatest holiday of the Mohammedans, and was in this instance to have a peculiar importance and solemnity for Ágades, as the installation of ʿAbd el Káder, who had not yet publicly assumed the government, was to take place the same day. Early in the morning, before daylight, Hámma and his companions left the house and mounted their camels, in order to pay their compliments to Astáfidet, and join him in his procession; and about sunrise the young chief entered and went directly to the “fáda,” at the head of from two hundred to three hundred Mehára, having left the greater number of his troop, which was said to amount to about two thousand men, outside the town.
Then, without much ceremony or delay, the installation or “sarauta” of the new sultan took place. The ceremonial was gone through inside the fáda; but this was the procedure. First of all, ʿAbd el Káder was conducted from his private apartments to the public hall. Then the chiefs of the Itísan and Kél-geres, who went in front, begged him to sit down upon the “gadó,” a sort of couch or divan made of the leaves of the palm-tree, or of the branches of other trees, similar to the angaríb used in Egypt and the lands of the Upper Nile, and covered with mats and a carpet. Upon this the new sultan sat down, resting his feet on the ground, not being allowed to put them upon the gadó, and recline in the Oriental style, until the Kél-owí desired him to do so. Such is the ceremony, symbolical of the combined participation of these different tribes in the investiture of their sultan.
This ceremony being concluded, the whole holiday-procession left the palace on its way to a chapel of a merábet called Sídi Hammáda, in Tára- bére, outside the town, where, according to an old custom, the prince was to say his prayers. This is a rule prevailing over the whole of Mohammedan Africa, and one which I myself witnessed in some of the most important of its capitals—in Ágades, in Kúkawa, in Más-eña, in Sókoto, and in Timbúktu; everywhere the principle is the same.