Part 29
Not deeming it prudent on such an occasion to mix with the people, I witnessed the whole procession from the terrace of our house, though I should have liked to have had a nearer view. The procession having taken its course through the most important quarter of the town, and through the market-places, turned round from the “káswa-n-delélti” to the oldest quarter of the town, and then returned westward, till at last it reached the above-mentioned chapel or tomb of Sídi Hammáda, where there is a small cemetery. The prayers being finished, the procession returned by the southern part of the town; and about ten o’clock the different parties which had composed the _cortége_ separated.
In going as well as in returning, the order of the procession was as follows. In front of all, accompanied by the musicians, rode the sultan on a very handsome horse of Tawáti breed[151], wearing, over his fine Sudán robe of coloured cotton and silk, the blue bernus I had presented to him, and wearing on his side a handsome cimetar with gold handle. Next to him rode the two sáraki-n-turáwa,—Bóro, the ex-serki on his left, and Ashu, who held the office at the time, on his right,—followed by the “fádawa-n-serki,” after whom came the chiefs of the Itísan and Kél-gerés, all on horseback, in full dress and armour, with their swords, daggers, long spears, and immense shields.
Then came the longer train of the Kél-owí, mostly on mehára, or swift camels, with Sultan Astáfidet at their head; and last of all followed the people of the town, a few on horseback, but most of them on foot, and armed with swords and spears, and several with bows and arrows. The people were all dressed in their greatest finery; and it would have formed a good subject for an artist. It recalled the martial processions of the middle ages—the more so as the high caps of the Tawárek[152], surrounded by a profusion of tassels on every side, together with the black “tesílgemist” or lithám, which covers the whole face, leaving nothing but the eyes visible, and the shawls wound over this and round the cap combine to imitate the shape of the helmet, while the black and coloured tobes (over which on such occasions the principal people wear a red bernus thrown across their shoulders) represent very well the heavier dress of the knights of yore. I will only add, that the fact of the sultan wearing on so important and solemn an occasion a robe which had been presented to him by a stranger and a Christian, had a powerful influence on the tribes collected here, and spread a beneficial report far westward over the desert.
Shortly after the procession was over, the friendly Haj ʿAbdúwa, who, after he had parted from us in Eghellál, had attached himself to the troop of Astáfidet, came to pay me a visit. He was now tolerably free from fever, but begged for some Epsom salts, besides a little gunpowder. He informed me that there was much sickness in the town, that from two to three people died daily, and that even Astáfidet was suffering from the prevalent disease. This was the smallpox, a very fatal disease in Central Africa, against which, however, several of the native pagan tribes secure themselves by inoculation, a precaution from which Mohammedans are withheld by religious prejudice. I then received a visit from the sons of Bóro in their official character as “fádawa-n-serki.” They wished to inform themselves, apparently, with reference to my adventure the other night, whether the townspeople behaved well towards me; and I was prudent enough to tell them that I had nothing to complain of, my alarm having been the consequence of my own imprudence. In fact the people behaved remarkably well, considering that I was the first Christian that ever visited the town; and the little explosions of fanaticism into which the women and children sometimes broke out, when they saw me on our terrace, rather amused me. During the first days of my residence in Ágades, they most probably took me for a pagan or a polytheist, and cried after me the confessional words of Islam, laying all the stress upon the word Allah, “the One God;” but after a few days, when they had learnt that I likewise worshipped the Deity, they began to emphasize the name of their Prophet.
There was held about sunset a grave and well-attended divan of all the chiefs, to consult with respect to a “yáki” or “égehen,” a ghazzia to be undertaken against the Mehárebín or freebooters of the Awelímmiden. While we were still in Tintéllust, the rumour had spread of an expedition undertaken by the latter tribe against Aïr, and the people were all greatly excited. For the poor Kél-owí, who have degenerated from their original vigour and warlike spirit by their intermixture with the black population, and by their peaceable pursuits, are not less afraid of the Awelímmiden than they are of the Kél-gerés; and old Ánnur himself used to give me a dreadful description of that tribe, at which I afterwards often laughed heartily with the very people whom he intended to depict to me as monsters. By way of consoling us for the losses we had sustained, and the ill-treatment we had experienced, from the people of Aïr, he told us that among the Awelímmiden we should have been exposed to far greater hardships, as they would not have hesitated to cut the tent over our heads into pieces, in order to make shirts of it. The old chief’s serious speeches had afterwards the more comical effect upon me, as the tent alluded to, a common English marquee, mended as it was with cotton strips of all the various fashions of Negroland, constantly formed a subject of the most lively scientific dispute among those barbarians, who, not having seen linen before, were at a loss to make out of what stuff it was originally made. But, unluckily, I had not among the Kél-owí such a steadfast protector and mediator and so sensible a friend as I had when, three years later, I went among the Awelímmiden, who would certainly have treated me in another way if I had fallen into their hands unprotected.
The old and lurking hostility amongst the Kél-owí and Kél-gerés, which was at this very moment threatening an outbreak, had been smoothed down by the influential and intelligent chief Sídi Ghalli el Háj Ánnur (properly E’ Núr), one of the first men in Ágades; and those tribes had sworn to forget their private animosities, in order to defend themselves against and revenge themselves upon their common enemy the Awelímmiden. Hámma was very anxious to get from me a good supply of powder for Sídi Ghalli, who was to be the leader of the expedition; but I had scarcely any with me.
While I was reclining in the evening rather mournfully upon my mat, not having been out of the house these last few days, the old friendly blacksmith came up, and invited me to a promenade; and with the greatest pleasure I acceded to the proposal. We left the town by the eastern side, the moon shining brightly, and throwing her magic light over the ruins of this once-wealthy abode of commerce. Turning then a little south, we wandered over the pebbly plain till the voices heard from the encampment of the Kél-geres frightened my companion, and we turned more northwards to the wells in Amelúli; having rested here awhile, we returned to our quarters.
[Sidenote: Thursday, October 17th.]
Ánnur karamí, our amiable and indolent attendant, left this place for Tintéllust with a note which I wrote to my colleagues, informing them of my safe arrival, my gracious reception, and the general character of the place. To-day the whole town was in agitation in consequence of one of those characteristic events which, in a place like Ágades, serve to mark the different periods of the year; for here a man can do nothing singly, but all must act together. The salt-caravan of the Itísan and Kél-geres had collected, mustering, I was told, not less than ten thousand camels, and had encamped in Mérmeru and Tesak-n-tállem ready to start for the salt-mines of Bilma, along a road which will be indicated further on. However exaggerated the number of the camels might be, it was certainly a very large caravan; and a great many of the inhabitants went out to settle their little business with the men, and take leave of their friends. Ghámbelu, the chief of the Itísan, very often himself accompanies this expedition, in which also many of the Tagáma take a part.
In the course of the day I had a rather curious conversation with a man from Táfidet, the native place of Háj ʿAbdúwa. After exchanging compliments with me, he asked me, abruptly, whether I always knew where water was to be found; and when I told him that, though I could not exactly say in every case at what depth water was to be found, yet that, from the configuration of the ground, I should be able to tell the spot where it was most likely to be met with, he asked whether I had seen rock-inscriptions on the road from Ghát; and I answered him that I had, and generally near watering-places. He then told me that I was quite right, but that in Táfidet there were many inscriptions upon the rocks at a distance from water. I told him that perhaps at an earlier period water might have been found there, or that the inscriptions might have been made by shepherds; but this he thought very improbable, and persisted in his opinion, that these inscriptions indicated ancient sepulchres, in which, probably, treasures were concealed. I was rather surprised at the philosophical conclusions at which this barbarian had arrived, and conjectured, as was really the case, that he had accompanied Háj ʿAbdúwa on his pilgrimage and on his passage through Egypt, and had there learned to make some archæological observations. He affected to believe that I was able to read the inscriptions, and tell all about the treasures; but I assured him that, while he was partially right with regard to the inscriptions, he was quite wrong so far as regarded the treasures, as these rock-inscriptions, so far as I was able to decipher them, indicated only names. But I was rather sorry that I did not myself see the inscriptions of which this man spoke, as I had heard many reports about them, which had excited my curiosity, and I had even sent the little Fezzáni Fáki Makhlúk expressly to copy them, who, however, brought me back only an illegible scrawl.
[Sidenote: Friday, October 18th.]
The last day of the Salla-léja was a merry day for the lower class of the inhabitants, but a serious one for the men of influence and authority; and many councils were held, one of them in my room. I then received a visit from a sister’s son of the sultan, whose name was Alkáli, a tall, gentlemanlike man, who asked me why I did not yet leave Ágades and return to Tintéllust. It seemed that he suspected me of waiting till the sultan had made me a present in return for that received by him; but I told him that, though I wished ʿAbd el Káder to write me a letter for my sultan, which would guarantee the safety of some future traveller belonging to our tribe, I had no further business here, but was only waiting for Hamma, who had not yet finished his bartering for provisions. He had seen me sketching on the terrace, and was somewhat inquisitive about what I had been doing there; but I succeeded in directing his attention to the wonderful powers of the pencil, with which he became so delighted, that when I gave him one, he begged another from me, in order that they might suffice for his lifetime.
Interesting also was the visit of Háj Beshír, the wealthy man of Iferwán whom I have already mentioned repeatedly, and who is an important personage in the country of Aïr. Unfortunately, instead of using his influence to facilitate our entrance into the country, his son had been among the chief leaders of the expedition against us. Though not young, he was lively and social, and asked me whether I should not like to marry some nice Emgedesíye girl. When he was gone, I took a long walk through the town with Hamma, who was somewhat more communicative to-day than usual; but his intelligence was not equal to his energy and personal courage, which had been proved in many a battle. He had been often wounded; and having in the last skirmish received a deep cut on his head, he had made an enormous charm, which was generally believed to guarantee him from any further wound; and in fact, if the charm were to receive the blow, it would not be altogether useless, for it was a thick book. But his destiny was written.
There was a rather amusing episode in the incidents of the day. The ex- sultan Hámed e’ Rufáy, who had left many debts behind him, sent ten camel-loads of provisions and merchandise to be divided among his creditors; but a few Tawárek to whom he owed something seized the whole, so that the other poor people never obtained a farthing. To-day the great salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés and Itísan really started.
[Sidenote: Saturday, October 19th.]
Hámma and his companions were summoned to a council which was to decide definitively in what quarter the arm of justice, now raised in wrath, was to strike the first blow; and it was resolved that the expedition should first punish the Imghád, the Ikázkezan, and Fádëangh. The officer who made the proclamation through the town was provided with a very rude sort of drum, which was, in fact, nothing but an old barrel covered with a skin.
[Sidenote: Sunday, October 20th.]
The most important event in the course of the day was a visit which I received from Mohammed Bóro, our travelling companion from Múrzuk, with his sons. It was the best proof of his noble character, that before we separated, perhaps never to meet again, he came to speak with me, and to explain our mutual relations fairly. He certainly could not deny that he had been extremely angry with us; and I could not condemn him on this account, for he had been treated ignominiously. While Mr. Gagliuffi told him that we were persuaded that the whole success of our proceedings lay in his hands, he had been plainly given to understand that we set very little value on his services. Besides, he had sustained some heavy losses on the journey, and by waiting for us had consumed the provisions which he had got ready for the march.
Although an old man, he was first going with the expedition, after which he intended accompanying the caravan of the Kél-gerés to Sókoto with his whole family; for Sókoto is his real home. The salt-caravan and the company of this man offered a splendid opportunity for reaching that place in safety and by the most direct road; but our means did not allow of such a journey, and after all it was better, at least for myself, that it was not undertaken, since, as matters went, it was reserved for me, before I traced my steps towards the western regions, to discover the upper navigable course of the eastern branch of the so-called Niger, and make sundry other important discoveries. Nevertheless Bóro expressed his hope of seeing me again in Sókoto; and his wish might easily have been accomplished. He certainly must have been, when in the vigour of life, a man—in the full sense of the word, and well deserved the praise of the Emgedesíye, who have a popular song beginning with the words “Ágades has no men but Bóro and Dahámmi.” I now also became aware why he had many enemies in Múrzuk, who unfortunately succeeded in making Gagliuffi believe that he had no authority whatever in his own country; for as serki-n-turáwa he had to levy the tax of ten mithkáls on every camel-load of merchandise, and this he is said to have done with some degree of severity. After a long conversation on the steps of the terrace, we parted, the best possible friends.
Not so pleasant to me, though not without interest, was the visit of another great man—Belróji, the támberi or war-chieftain of the Ighólar Im-esághlar. He was still in his prime, but my Kél-owí (who were always wrangling like children) got up a desperate fight with him in my very room, which was soon filled with clouds of dust; and the young Slimán entering during the row, and joining in it, it became really frightful. The Kél-owí were just like children; when they went out they never failed to put on all their finery, which they threw off as soon as they came within doors, resuming their old dirty clothes.
It was my custom in the afternoon, when the sun had set behind the opposite buildings, to walk up and down in front of our house; and while so doing to-day I had a long conversation with two chiefs of the Itísan on horseback, who came to see me, and avowed their sincere friendship and regard. They were fine, tall men, but rather slim, with a noble expression of countenance, and of light colour. Their dress was simple, but handsome, and arranged with great care. All the Tawárek, from Ghát as far as Háusa, and from Alákkos to Timbúktu, are passionately fond of the tobes and trowsers called “tailelt” (the Guinea-fowl), or “fílfil” (the pepper), on account of their speckled colour. They are made of silk and cotton interwoven[153], and look very neat. The lowest part of the trowsers, which forms a narrow band about two inches broad, closing rather tightly, is embroidered in different colours. None of the Tawárek of pure blood would, I think, degrade themselves by wearing on their head the red cap.
[Sidenote: Monday, October 21st.]
Early in the morning I went with Hamma to take leave of the sultan, who had been too busy for some days to favour me with an audience; and I urged my friend to speak of the treaty, though I was myself fully aware of the great difficulty which so complicated a paper, written in a form entirely unknown to the natives, and which must naturally be expected to awaken their suspicion, would create, and of the great improbability of its being signed while the sultan was pressed with a variety of business. On the way to the fáda we met Áshu, the present serki-n- turáwa, a large-sized man, clad in an entirely-white dress, which may not improbably be a sign of his authority over the white men (Turáwa[154]). He is said to be a very wealthy man. He replied to my compliments with much kindness, and entered into conversation with me about the difference of our country and theirs, and ordered one of his companions to take me to a small garden which he had planted near his house in the midst of the town, in order to see what plants we had in common with them. Of course there was nothing like our plants; and my cicerone conceived rather a poor idea of our country when he heard that all the things which they had, we had not—neither senna, nor bamia, nor indigo, nor cotton, nor Guinea corn, nor, in short, the most beautiful of all trees of the creation, as he thought—the talha, or _Mimosa ferruginea_; and he seemed rather incredulous when told that we had much finer plants than they.
We then went to the fáda. The sultan seemed quite ready for starting. He was sitting in the courtyard of his palace, surrounded by a multitude of people and camels, while the loud murmuring noise of a number of schoolboys who were learning the Kurán proceeded from the opposite corner, and prevented my hearing the conversation of the people. The crowd and the open locality were, of course, not very favourable to my last audience; and it was necessarily a cold one. Supported by Hamma, I informed the sultan that I expected still to receive a letter from him to the government under whose auspices I was travelling, expressive of the pleasure and satisfaction he had felt in being honoured with a visit from one of the mission, and that he would gladly grant protection to any future traveller who should happen to visit his country. The sultan promised that such a letter should be written; however, the result proved that either he had not quite understood what I meant, or, what is more probable, that in his precarious situation he felt himself not justified in writing to a Christian government, especially as he had received no letter from it.
When I had returned to my quarters, Hamma brought me three letters, in which ʿAbd el Káder recommended my person and my luggage to the care of the governors of Kanó, Kátsena, and Dáura, and which were written in rather incorrect Arabic, and in nearly the same terms. They were as follows:—
“In the name of God, &c.
“From the Emír of Ahír[155], ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan Mohammed el Bákeri, to the Emír of Dáura, son of the late Emír of Dáura, Is-hhák. The mercy of God upon the eldest companions of the Prophet, and his blessing upon the Khalífa; ‘Amín.’ The most lasting blessing and the highest well-being to you without end. I send this message to you with regard to a stranger, my guest, of the name of ʿAbd el Kerím[156], who came to me, and is going to the Emír el Mumenín [the Sultan of Sókoto], in order that, when he proceeds to you, you may protect him and treat him well, so that none of the freebooters and evildoers[157] may hurt him or his property, but that he may reach the Emír el Mumenín. Indeed we wrote this on account of the freebooters, in order that you may protect him against them in the most efficacious manner. Farewell.”
These letters were all sealed with the seal of the sultan.
Hamma showed me also another letter which he had received from the sultan, and which I think interesting enough to be here inserted, as it is a faithful image of the turbulent state of the country at that time, and as it contains the simple expression of the sincere and just proceedings of the new sultan. Its purport was as follows, though the language in which it is written is so incorrect that several passages admit of different interpretations.[158]
“In the name of God, &c.
“From the Commander, the faithful Minister of Justice[159], the Sultan ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan Mohammed el Bákeri, to the chiefs of all the tribe of E’ Núr, and Hámed, and Sëis, and all those among you who have large possessions, perfect peace to you.