Part 22

We continued our march alone. On the east side of the town a little cultivation was to be seen, the country here being very swampy, and inundated during the rainy season. It is covered with a dense jungle; and wild beasts are in great numbers. Water is close under the surface of the ground, and the well that we passed near a Shúwa village was only three fathoms deep. Near the village of Atmarchári, which we left on our right, there were traces of cultivation, trees being cut down and the ground cleared to make room for corn-fields; the village is inhabited by Kanúri people. Soon after, the forest became denser than before, climbing plants running up the trees, and hanging down in festoons from the branches. Here it was that I first saw the footprints of the rhinoceros, an animal which is unheard of in all the western parts of Negroland. The people of this part of Logón call the animal “bírní,” the name usual in Bagírmi, while the real name in the language of the country is “ngirmé.” The Kanúri call it “kárgadán,” or “bárkaján”—the very name mentioned already by El Edrísi.[37] It is greatly feared by the inhabitants, who sometimes encounter these ferocious animals on the narrow footpaths which wind through the thick forests of their country.

I had gone on a little in advance, when suddenly I beheld, through the branches of the trees, the splendid sheet of a large river, far larger than that of Logón. All was silence! and the pellucid surface of the water undisturbed by the slightest breeze; no vestiges of human or animal life were to be seen, with the exception of two riverhorses (called “niyé” by the people of Logón), which, having been basking in the sun on the shore, plunged into the water at our approach. This, then, was the real Shárí, that is to say the great river of the Kótokó (for Shárí, as I have said before, means nothing else but river), which, augmented by the smaller but very considerable river of Logón, forms that large basin which gives to this part of Negroland its characteristic feature. The river at this spot runs from S. 30° W. to N. 30° E., but its general course is rather winding, coming further upwards from the south, and beyond forming a reach from E. 38° N.

The shore, where I stood enjoying the tranquil but beautiful scenery, is closely approached by the forest, and has an elevation of about fifteen feet. No human habitation was to be seen, with the exception of a small village on the other side. The surface of the water was undisturbed, except now and then by a fish leaping up; no waterfowl enlivened the banks; not a single boat was to be seen, till at length we observed the ferrymen on the opposite shore, where it formed a flat and sandy beach, making us a sign that we were to proceed a little higher up the river, in order not to miss the landing-place when carried down by the current. We therefore went about 800 yards further up; and I made myself comfortable under the shade of a tree, awaiting the boat, and indulging in the thought that I was soon to enter a new country, never before trodden by European foot.

At length the boat came; but the ferrymen, as soon as they saw who we were, behaved in a strange and mysterious manner, and told us that they could not take us across the river before they had informed their master. However uncommon such a precaution seemed to be, I had as yet no idea of the real state of affairs. We therefore sat down patiently to await the answer, which we thought a mere matter of form. The atmosphere was very sultry, and the sky overcast; clouds were hanging over the river, as forerunners of the rainy season. In order to keep off the deadly stings of the blood-flies from our horses, we made a large fire. The sting of this fly is almost as fatal as that of the “tsetse” in the southern parts of this continent; and many travellers lose all their horses on the shore of this river.

I was suddenly aroused from my tranquil repose by the arrival of a numerous troop of pilgrims on their way to Mekka; all of them belonged to the tribe of the Fúlbe or Felláta, mostly from the western parts of Negroland, and some from Góttokó, the little-known country between Bámbara and Kong. Amongst them were also the people who had accompanied me on my journey to Ádamáwa, and whom I had again met a second time near the town of Logón. I made them a present of needles, in order to assist them in their praiseworthy undertaking. While we were chatting together, the boatmen returned, bringing with them the astounding answer that the chief of the village, Ásu, would not allow me to cross the river.

We could at first scarcely imagine what was the reason of this unforeseen obstacle, when the boatmen informed us that Háj Áhmed, the head man of those Bagírmi people whom I have mentioned as returning from Kúkawa to their native country, had assured them that I was a most dangerous person, and that the vizier of Bórnu himself had told them there was great danger that, if I should enter the country of Bagírmi in the absence of the sultan, I might upset his throne, and ruin his kingdom. As there were some of the chief men of the village in the boat, we used every means to convince them of the absurdity of such calumnies; but all was in vain, and it became evident that we should certainly not be allowed to cross the river at this spot.

For a moment I hesitated whether I should retrace my steps to Logón bírni, there to await the return of a messenger whom I might send to the sultan of Bagírmi, or whether I should try my fortune at some other point of the river. I could not well perceive from whence the obstacle proceeded; whether it was really the vizier of Bórnu who was the cause of these intrigues, as he knew that it was my earnest desire, if possible, to penetrate into Wádáy; or whether it was the Sultan of Logón, who, by compelling me in this way to retrace my steps, might think to persuade me to stay longer in his company. The Bagírmi man, I had, as far as I knew, never offended in my life—on the contrary, in the town of Logón I had treated his whole troop, and given besides some small presents to himself; but he might have been jealous of me, seeing that the sultan of Logón honoured me in so remarkable a manner. He had been to Kúkawa, in order to purchase there some articles of manufacture which were not to be had in Bagírmi, and which he hoped to sell to advantage to the sultan of his country. Perhaps he thought that I was also a merchant, and might spoil his market. Considering therefore all these points, I at length decided upon trying to cross the river at another place.

Having in consequence retraced our steps a little more than two miles, along the path we had come, in order to make the people believe that we were returning to Logón, we turned off from our track to the northward, and winding along in a north-easterly direction, at times through a dense forest, at others, passing small villages or hamlets, where scarcely any corn was cultivated, though cotton was grown to some extent, and evidently employed the activity of the inhabitants in weaving and dyeing, we reached the larger village Búgarí. Here the inhabitants, who, like those of most of the villages hereabouts, belong to the Kanúri race, received us with great kindness and hospitality, and without delay assigned us quarters in a large courtyard. My companions told the people that we had missed the direct road to Mélé, and tried even to pass me off as a “sheríf;” but unfortunately there was a person who had seen me at the ferry of Ásu, so that the hope of crossing the river at some other place without further obstacle was not very great.

Nevertheless, I was resolved to try every means in my power in order not to miss the opportunity of exploring a new country; and for a dóra, or small shirt, I was promised by the “bíllama” of the village a guide, who early the next morning should conduct me to the ferry of Mélé.

[Sidenote: Thursday, March 18th.]

Before daybreak we began our stealthy enterprise, and entered the woods, led on by a tall, well-made, muscular, and half-naked lad, well armed with bow and battle-axe. Passing through a district where, besides cotton, a great deal of native corn was cultivated, all belonging to the inhabitants of the village where we had passed the night, and following our narrow unbeaten footpath, we at length emerged upon the direct well- trodden track which leads straight from Logón to Mélé, although it is very winding. At first underwood was greatly intermixed with dúm-bush or ngílle; but after a while the aspect of the country suddenly changed, the lower ground on our left expanding in fine meadow lands interspersed with pools of stagnant water, the deposit of the last year’s inundation, while on our right we had the site of a former town, called Yesínekí, densely overgrown with forest.

Here we came again in sight of that fine river which forms the western boundary of the kingdom of Bagírmi, and which intriguing men wished to prevent me from crossing. The slope of the bank is here broken, forming a small terrace before it descends to the edge of the water, the upper slope being at present covered with a green turf, while the lower one, which rose fifteen feet above the surface of the river, consists of loose sand. Here again we disturbed some crocodiles which had been quietly basking in the sun, and lost no time in making signs to the ferrymen opposite, that we wished to cross, while I hastened to the rear of the rushes growing on the shore to make a slight sketch of the interesting scenery of the river, with the village on the other side. We were delighted when, after a short delay, we saw a boat leaving the village, going round the sandbank which stretched out in the middle of the river, and coming towards us. All our success now depended on a few minutes; and as soon as the ferrymen touched the shore we satisfied their claims, and entered the boat, which was large and commodious.

[Illustration: Drawn by J. M. Bernatz, from a Sketch by Dr. Barth.

M. & N. Hanhart, lith. et impt.

THE SHÁRY AT MÉLÉ.

March 18th 1852.]

It was with very satisfactory feelings, although mingled with some degree of uneasiness, that I found myself floating on this noble river, which was here certainly not less than 600 yards across. The sandbank is a little nearer to the eastern shore, and the whole current (“ngáda” in Kanúri, “ámma-wá” in Lógone) keeps along that side, while on the western shore the river sweeps slowly along, and in general appears not to be very deep. In the channel, the poles of the ferrymen indicated a depth of fifteen feet. Our camel, horses, and bullock had to cross the river by swimming alongside the boat, till we reached the northern end of the sandbank, when they walked along the sandy beach; the sandbank being at present about 250 yards in length. The current between the sandbank and the eastern shore was very strong, and the water deep, though fortunately the distance was only about 200 yards.

Having crossed this imposing stream, we entered the small harbour of Mélé, and as soon as we reached the shore were saluted by a “chiróma,” or squirrel, which, running about freely, and wagging its tail, seemed to offer a good omen for a happy arrival in this country. The inhabitants also, who were employed in various ways at a small wharf used for building the common craft of the river, received us in a friendly way, more especially as I made a small present to a sort of official personage who has the title of “Kashélla,” and added a few needles in addition to the fare paid to the boatmen. I was agreeably struck by the fine figures of the females, their comely appearance and very becoming head-dress distinguishing them most advantageously, not only from the Kanúri, but even from the people of Logón.

Having here spent a few minutes re-loading our camel and exchanging compliments, we hastened on, ascending the higher bank, which here rises to about twenty-five feet, and leaving the village to the left, close to the steep slope overhanging the river. But we had only proceeded about a mile, delighted at the idea that, notwithstanding the obstacles thrown in our way, we had succeeded in entering this country, when we saw a person advancing towards us, whom my horseman recognized as a servant of the chief of Ásu. This incident could not but fail to lessen our hopes of success considerably. Had the chief of Ásu been more careful in discharging his duty, and sent a messenger the evening before, or early the same morning, I should never have entered Bagírmi.

As it was, having allowed the man to proceed on his mischievous errand, we consulted together a moment, and thought it best to leave the path, and strike across into the stubble-fields; for there is much cultivated ground belonging to Mélé, which, although lying close to the river, is more of a farming than a fishing village. New ground was being cleared. Trees were being cut down, nothing but the trunks being left, in order to protect the dresses of the labourers from the ants. The whole country was well cultivated, and, being shaded by numerous trees, presented a very interesting appearance. After about half an hour’s march across the stubble-fields, without any direct track, we reached a well-trodden path coming from Klésem, a considerable village lying lower down the river, and still belonging to Kótokó, with a peculiar idiom of its own. Following then this track, we reached a shallow watercourse of the same nature as those mentioned on former occasions. The Bagírmi people call them “kámané” or “gúgulí.” It was enlivened by a settlement of Shúwa cattle-breeders of the tribe of the ʿAgaífe, and stretched out in great length from S.S.W. to N.N.E., forming a very peculiar feature in this part of the country; it is called “Ambusáda” or Mbusáda. Where we crossed it the water was only a foot deep, the whole of the bottom of the shallow bed being covered with the richest verdure.

We then kept close along its eastern side, having a rising ground on our left, with a most splendid border of beautiful trees, chiefly of the fig kind. It was a scenery which reminded me of the Músgu country, with this exception, that the watercourse was not so broad, and the rich foliage of the trees was not occasionally broken and diversified by the deléb- palm. An almost uninterrupted line of hamlets skirted this narrow strip of verdant fertility, and now and then groups of people were seen issuing from the thick foliage, while numerous herds of cattle were spread over the green swampy meadow-lands, some half-immersed in the water, and nipping off the fresh shoots of the young grass, while others were roaming about on the dry herbage near the border. Amongst the cattle, birds of the most beautiful plumage, and of every description and size, were sporting and playing about: there was the gigantic pelican dashing down occasionally from some neighbouring tree; the maraboo (_Ciconia M._), standing like an old man, its head between its shoulders; the large-sized azure-feathered “dédegamí,” strutting proudly along after its prey, the plotus, with its long snake-like neck; the white ibis, eagerly searching for its food, with various species of ducks (geddégabú, or “dabá”), and numerous other lesser birds in larger or smaller flights. Now and then a wild hog suddenly started forth from the covert of the forest, accompanied by a litter of young ones, and plunged eagerly into the water. There was here a rich and inexhaustible field for the sportsman; but I could not think of sport, for I was conscious that something was going on to stop my progress.

Perhaps it would have been more prudent to have gone on without stopping; but I felt the heat of the sun very much, and, seeing that I could not traverse the country by force, preferred resting during the heat of the day under the shade of a fine wide-spreading ngábbore or ngáto (fig-tree) at the side of a Shúwa village. I here endeavoured in vain to barter a few things with the inhabitants; but, to my great astonishment, neither milk nor anything else was to be had, though cattle were seen grazing in every direction. But the people told me that the great number of cattle collected together on so narrow a slip of pasture-ground was the very reason they had so little milk. These Shúwa people, who belong to the tribe of the Welád ʿAlí, call this shallow water Msél el Háj ʿAlí, after the name of their principal chief.

I was quietly reclining in the cool shade, although not without some sad forebodings, when the head man of Mélé, accompanied by seven or eight armed Shúwa, was seen approaching. They first addressed themselves to my horseman Gréma, who had made himself comfortable in the shade of another tree a short distance off. Having finished their business with him, they came to me, protesting that they could not allow me to continue my journey, as they were compelled to wait for an order from the capital, when I did not hesitate to declare on my part that I was willing to wait any reasonable time, on condition of their assigning me a residence, and the means of supplying my wants. They expressed their satisfaction at my compliance, telling me that in case of my refusal they would have sent all the Shúwa in the neighbourhood to harass me on the road. The head man of Mélé then promised me that, if I would return to his village, he would take care that I should be supplied with everything I wanted,

## particularly fowls and milk.

I therefore allowed Gréma to proceed alone, in order to take my letters to the capital, while I slowly retraced my steps. An hour and a half’s march along a more direct path brought me back to the village where I had first entered this country.

The position of Mélé is not without interest, situated as it is upon a steep bank overhanging a large and beautiful navigable river, which here changes its course from a west-easterly to a south-northerly direction; and here I might have indulged a few days in contemplating the interesting scenery, if my future progress had allowed me more tranquillity. As it was, the six or seven days I passed here were spent in rather a dull manner; for the inhabitants became very suspicious when they observed that my favourite place was the shade of a fine tree at the very brink of the shore, from whence I had a view over the river to a great extent north and west. Of course there was but little communication; and very rarely a boat was seen proceeding in either direction. Now and then the sand-bank became enlivened by a crocodile coming out of the water to bask in the sun, or by the frolics of the boys of the village, who occasionally crossed over to look after their fishing-tackle, or dry their nets. Both fish as well as crocodiles are extremely plentiful in the river; and the meat of the latter forms a great delicacy to the natives. But there is also in this river a very large animal, which, I think, must be identical with the ayú of the Bénuwé and Niger—the _Manatus Vogelii_.[38]

To the north-east the village was bordered by thick forest, which at a little distance was traversed by the lower course of the Ambusáda, which was here extremely rich in verdure, and full of the favourite haunts of the hog. I here, also, observed a considerable number of monkeys. It was during my residence in this place, likewise, that I first obtained a clear knowledge of the nature of the Shárí, and its relation with that of Logón, the point of junction of the two rivers being a little below Kúsuri, at a place called Síña Fácha, while I obtained a great deal of information—certainly not quite clear and distinct—of the towns and principalities on the upper courses of these rivers. I also learned that last year the river had overflowed its banks, and entered the very huts of the natives. Nevertheless, at this spot the banks were at present more than forty feet high.

As for the name of the river, the name which is generally given to it, viz. Sháry or Shárí, belongs, as I have mentioned on a former occasion, to the language of the Kótokó. The Bagírmi people call it only Bá, distinguishing it in the various parts of its course by the names of the different villages which are situated on its banks, as Bá-Mélé, Bá-Busó, Bá-Gún, while the Arabs call it at this place Bahr-Mélé, and a little higher up from the other village, Bahr-Ásu. When the whole river, therefore, is sometimes called Ásu, the relation is quite the same as the komádugu Wáúbe being called Yeou or Yó.

But while I was thus able to employ my time not quite unprofitably, my comforts were not quite so good as I had been led to expect, neither fowl nor milk being procurable, and the fresh fish of the river, which I was occasionally able to procure for a handsome present, not agreeing with the weak state of my stomach; although it was excellent and very palatable. There is a small market held at a village about five miles distant, of the name of Édiye, and every Wednesday another market, a little more important, near a village of the name of Chínge.

My impatience was augmented by the unmistakable signs of the approach of the rainy season, while the numbers of mosquitoes allowed me but little rest during the night. The sky was usually overcast, and occasionally early in the morning the whole country was enveloped in a dense fog. Though rather cool in the morning, the weather became sultry towards the middle of the day, and heavy squalls of wind sometimes set in in the afternoon. I would willingly have shared the company of the sultan in the expedition, although the news which arrived from the camp was not altogether of a satisfactory character. The pagan inhabitants of Gógomí, against whom he was waging war, were reported to have descended from their mountain strongholds, and to have slain a considerable number of his people, and amongst them a well-known Arab from Morocco, who accompanied him on this expedition.

[Sidenote: Thursday, March 25th.]