Part 3

All this disagreeable business, which is so killing to the best hours and destroys half the energy of the traveller, had retarded my departure so long that the sun was just setting when I left the gate of the town. My little caravan was very incomplete; for my only companion on emerging from the gate into the high waving fields of Guinea corn, which entirely concealed the little suburb, was an unfortunate young man, whom I had not hired at all; my three hired servants having stayed behind, on some pretext or other. This lad was Mohammed ben Ahmed, a native from Fezzán, whom I wanted to hire, or rather hired, in Gúmmel, in March last, for two Spanish dollars a month; but who, having been induced by his companions in the caravan, with which he had just arrived from the north, to forego the service of a Christian, had broken his word, and gone on with the caravan of the people from Sókna, leaving me with only one useful servant. But he had found sufficient leisure to repent of his dishonourable conduct; for having been at the verge of the grave in Kanó, and being reduced to the utmost misery, he came to Kúkawa, begging my pardon, and entreating my compassion: and, after some expostulation, I allowed him to stay without hiring him; and it was only on seeing his attachment to me in the course of time that I afterwards granted him a dollar a month, and he did not obtain two dollars till my leaving Zínder, in January, 1853, on my way to Timbúktu, when I was obliged to augment the salary of all my people. This lad followed me with my two camels.

All was fertility and vegetation, though these fields near the capital are certainly not the best situated in Bórnu. I felt strengthened by the fresh air, and followed the eastern path, which did not offer any place for an encampment. Looking round I saw at length two of my men coming towards us, and found to the left of the track, on a little sandy eminence, a convenient spot for pitching my tent. I felt happy in having left the monotony and closeness of the town behind me. Nothing in the world makes me feel happier than a wide, open country, a commodious tent, and a fine horse. But I was not quite comfortable; for, having forgotten to close my tent, I was greatly annoyed by the mosquitoes, which prevented my getting any sleep. The lake being very near, the dew was so heavy that next morning my tent was as wet as if it had been soaked with water.

[Sidenote: Sept. 12th.]

Notwithstanding these inconveniences, I awoke in the morning with a grateful heart, and cared little about the flies, which soon began to attack me. I sat down outside the tent to enjoy my liberty: it was a fine morning, and I sat for hours tranquilly enjoying the most simple landscape (the lake not being visible, and scarcely a single tree in sight) which a man can fancy. But all was so quiet, and bespoke such serenity and content, that I felt quite happy and invigorated. I did not think about writing, but idled away the whole day. In the evening my other man came, and brought me a note from Mr. Overweg, addressed to me “in campo caragæ Æthiopiensis” (karága means wilderness).

[Sidenote: Saturday, Sept. 13th.]

I decided late in the morning, when the dew had dried up a little, upon moving my encampment a short distance, but had to change my path for a more westerly one, on account of the large swampy ponds, formed at the end of the rainy season in the concavity at the foot of the sand-hills of Dawerghú. The vegetation is rich during this season, even in this monotonous district.

Having at length entered the corn-, or rather millet-fields of Dawerghú, we soon ascended the sandhills, where the whole character of the landscape is altered; for while the dúm-bush almost ceases, the rétem, _Spartium monospermum_, is the most common botanical ornament of the ground where the cultivation of the fields has left a free spot, whilst fine specimens of the mimosa break the monotony of the fields. Having passed several clusters of cottages forming an extensive district, I saw to the right an open space descending towards a green sheet of water, filling a sort of valley or hollow, where a short time afterwards, when the summer harvest is over, the peculiar sort of sorghum called másakwá is sown. Being shaded by some fine acacias, the spot was very inviting, and, feeling already tired, sick and weak as I was, though after a journey of only two hours, I determined to remain there during the heat of the day. I had scarcely stretched myself on the ground, when a man brought me word that a messenger, sent by Ghét, the chief of the Welád Slimán, had passed by with the news that this wandering and marauding tribe had left Búrgu and returned to Kánem. This was very unpleasant news, as, from all that I had heard, it appeared to me that Búrgu must be an interesting country, at least as much so as Ásben or Aïr, being favoured by deep valleys and ravines, and living sources of fine water, and producing, besides great quantities of excellent dates, even grapes and figs, at least in some favoured spots.

The morning had been rather dull, but before noon the sun shone forth, and our situation on the sloping ground of the high country, overlooking a great extent of land in the rich dress of vegetable life, was very pleasant. There was scarcely a bare spot: all was green, except that the ears of the millet and sorghum were almost ripe, and began to assume a yellowish-brown tint; but how different is the height of the stalks, the very largest of which scarcely exceeds fifteen feet, from those I saw afterwards on my return from Timbúktu, in the rich valleys of Kébbi. Several Kánembú were passing by and enlivened the scenery.

When the heat of the sun began to abate I set my little caravan once more in motion, and passed on through the level country, which in the simplicity of my mind I thought beautiful, and which I greatly enjoyed. After about an hour’s march, we passed a large pond or pool, situated to the left of the road, and formed by the rains, bordered by a set of trees of the acacia tribe, and enlivened by a large herd of fine cattle. Towards evening, after some trouble, we found a path leading through the fields into the interior of a little village, called Alairúk, almost hidden behind the high stalks of millet. Our reception was rather cold, such as a stranger may expect to find in all the villages situated near a capital, the inhabitants of which are continually pestered by calls upon their hospitality. But, carrying my little residence and all the comforts I wanted with me, I cared little about their treatment; and my tent was soon pitched in a separate courtyard. But all my enjoyment was destroyed by a quarrel which arose between my horseman and the master of the dwelling, who would not allow him to put his horse where he wished: my horseman had even the insolence to beat the man who had received us into his house. This is the way in which affairs are managed in these countries.

[Sidenote: Sunday, September 14th.]

After a refreshing night I started a little later than on the day previous, winding along a narrow path through the fields, where, besides sorghum, karás (_Hibiscus esculentus_) is cultivated, which is an essential thing for preparing the soups of the natives, in districts where the leaves of the kúka, or monkey-bread-tree, and of the hajilíj, or _Balanites_, are wanting; for though the town of Kúkawa has received its name from the circumstance that a young tree of this species was found on the spot where the sheikh Mohammed el Kánemi, the father of the ruling sultan, laid the first foundation of the present town, nevertheless scarcely any kúka is seen for several miles round Kúkawa.

The sky was cloudy, and the country became less interesting than the day before. We met a small troop of native traders, with dried fish, which forms a great article of commerce throughout Bórnu; for though the Kanúri people at present are almost deprived of the dominion, and even the use, of the fine sheet of water which spreads out in the midst of their territories, the fish, to which their forefathers have given the name of food (bú-ni, from bú, to eat), has remained a necessary article for making their soups. The fields in this part of the country were not so well looked after, and were in a more neglected state, but there was a tolerable variety of trees, though rather scanty. Besides prickly underwood of talhas, there were principally the hajilíj or bíto (_Balanites Ægyptiaca_), the selím, the kurna, the serrákh, and the gherret or _Mimosa Nilotica_. Farther on, a short time before we came to the village Kalíkágorí, I observed a woman collecting the seeds of an eatable _Poa_, called “kréb” or “kashá,” of which there are several species, by swinging a sort of basket through the rich meadow ground. These species of grasses afford a great deal of food to the inhabitants of Bórnu, Bagírmi, and Wadáÿ, but more especially to the Arab settlers in these countries, or the Shúwa; in Bórnu, at least, I have never seen the black natives make use of this kind of food, while in Bagírmi it seems to constitute a sort of luxury even with the wealthier classes. The reader will see in the course of my narrative, that in Mas-eña I lived principally on this kind of _Poa_. It makes a light palatable dish, but requires a great deal of butter.

After having entered the forest and passed several small waterpools, we encamped near one of these, when the heat of the sun began to make itself felt. This district abounded in mimosas of the species called gherret, úm-el-barka, or “kingar,” which affords a very excellent wood for saddles and other purposes, while the coals prepared from it are used for making powder. My old talkative, but not very energetic companion Bu-Zéd, was busy in making new pegs for my tent, the very hard black ground of Bórnu destroying pegs very soon; and in the meantime, assisted by Hosén ben Hár, gave me a first insight into the numerous tribes living in Kánem and round the bahar-el-ghazál. The fruits of the gherret, which in their general appearance are very like those of the tamarind-tree, are a very important native medicine, especially in cases of dysentery, and it is most probably to them that I owed my recovery when attacked by that destructive disease during my second stay in Sókoto in September, 1854. The same tree is essential for preparing the water-skins, that most necessary article for crossing the desert. The kajíji was plentiful in this neighbourhood. The root of this little plant, which is about the size of a nut, the natives use in the most extensive way for perfuming themselves with.

Late in the afternoon we continued our journey through the forest, which was often interrupted by open patches. After having pursued the path for some miles we quitted it, and travelled in a more easterly direction through a pleasant hilly country, full of verdure, and affording pasturage to a great many cattle, for the Kánembú, like the Fúlbe, go with their herds to a great distance during certain seasons of the year; and all the cattle from the places about Ngórnu northwards is to be found in these quarters during the cold season. But not being able to find water here, we were obliged to try the opposite direction, in order to look for this element so essential for passing a comfortable night. At length, late in the evening, traversing a very rugged tract of country, we reached the temporary encampment, or berí, of a party of Kánembú with their herds, whilst a larger berí was moving eastward. Here also we were unable to find water, and even milk was to be got but sparingly.

[Sidenote: Monday, 15th.]

Before we were ready to move, the whole nomadic encampment broke up; the cattle going in front, and the men, women, and children following with their little household on asses. The most essential or only apparatus of these wandering neatherds are the tall sticks for hanging up the milk to secure it; the “sákti” or skins for milk and water, the calabashes, and the kórió. The men are always armed with their long wooden shields, the “ngáwa fógobe,” and their spears, and some are most fantastically dressed, as I have described on a former occasion. After having loaded our camels, and proceeded some distance, we came to the temporary abode of another large herd, whose guardians at first behaved unfriendly, forbidding our tasting a drop of their delicious stuff; but they soon exchanged their haughty manners for the utmost cordiality, when Mʿadi, an elder brother of Fúgo ʿAli, our friend in Maduwári, recognised me. He even insisted on my encamping on the spot, and staying the day with him, and it was with difficulty that he allowed me to pursue my march, after having swallowed as much delicious milk as my stomach would bear. Further on we joined the main road, and found to the left of it a handsome pool of muddy water, and filled two skins with it. Certainly there is nothing worse for a European than this stagnant dirty water; but during the rainy season, and for a short time afterwards, he is rarely able to get any other.

Soon after I had another specimen of the treatment to which the natives are continually exposed from the king’s servants in these countries; for, meeting a large herd of fine sheep, my horseguard managed to lay hold of the fattest specimen of the whole herd, notwithstanding the cries of the shepherd, whom I in vain endeavoured to console by offering him the price of the animal. During the heat of the day, when we were encamped under the scanty shade of a few gáwo, my people slaughtered the sheep; but, as in general, I only tasted a little of the liver. The shade was so scanty, and the sun so hot, that I felt very weak in the afternoon when we went on a little.

[Sidenote: Tuesday, Sept. 16th.]

I felt tolerably strong. Soon after we had started, we met a great many horses which had been sent here for pasturage, and then encountered another fish kafla. My horseman wanted me all at once to proceed to the town of Yó, from whence he was to return; and he continued on without stopping, although I very soon felt tired, and wanted to make a halt. The country, at the distance of some miles south from the komádugu, is rather monotonous and barren, and the large tamarind-tree behind the town of Yó is seen from such a distance that the traveller, having the same conspicuous object before his eyes for such a length of time, becomes tired out before he reaches it. The dúm-palm is the principal tree in this flat region, forming detached clusters, while the ground in general is extremely barren.

Proceeding with my guardian in advance, we at length reached the town, in front of which there is a little suburb; and being uncertain whether we should take quarters inside or outside, we entered it. It consisted of closely-packed streets, was extremely hot, and exhaled such an offensive smell of dried fish, that it appeared to me a very disagreeable and intolerable abode. Nevertheless we rode to the house of the shitíma, or rather, in the full form, Shitíma Yóma (which is the title the governor bears), a large building of clay. He was just about taking another wife; and large quantities of corn, intended as provision for his new household, were heaped up in front of it.[5] Having applied to his men for quarters, a small courtyard with a large hut was assigned to us in another part of the town, and we went there; but it was impossible for me to make myself in any way comfortable in this narrow space, where a small gáwo afforded very scanty shade. Being almost suffocated, and feeling very unwell, I mounted my horse again, and hastened out of the gate, and was very glad to have regained the fresh air. We then encamped about 600 yards from the town, near a shady tamarind-tree; and I stretched my feeble limbs on the ground, and fell into a sort of lethargy for some hours, enjoying a luxurious tranquillity; I was so fatigued with my morning’s ride, that I thought with apprehension on what would become of me after my companions had joined me, when I should be obliged to bear fatigue of a quite different description.

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

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

YÓ AND THE KOMÁDUGU.

Sepr. 17th. 1851.]

As soon as I felt strong enough to rise from my couch, I walked a few paces in order to get a sight of the river or “komádugu.” It was at present a fine sheet of water, the bed being entirely full, “tsimbúllena,” and the stream running towards the Tsád with a strong current; indeed, I then scarcely suspected that on another occasion I should encamp for several days in the dry bed of this river, which, notwithstanding the clear and undoubted statements of the members of the former expedition with regard to its real character, had been made by Capt. W. Allen to carry the superfluous waters of the Tsád into the Kwára. The shores of the komádugu near this place are quite picturesque, being bordered by splendid tamarind-trees, and “kínzim,” or dúm-palms, besides fine specimens of the acacia tribe on the northern shore. At the foot of the tamarind-trees a very good kind of cotton is grown, while lower down, just at this season of the year, wheat is produced by irrigating regularly laid-out grounds by way of the shadúf or “lámbuna.” Cotton and small quantities of wheat are the only produce of this region, besides fish and the fruit of the _Cucifera_ or dúm-palm, which forms an essential condiment for the “kunú,” a kind of soup made of Negro millet; for the place is entirely destitute of any other _Cerealia_, and millet and sorghum are grown only to a small extent. Cattle also are very scarce in Yó; and very little milk is to be procured. Fish is the principal food of the inhabitants, of which there are several very palatable species in the river, especially one of considerable size, from eighteen to twenty inches long, with a very small mouth, resembling the mullet.

I saw also a specimen of the electric fish, about ten inches long, and very fat, which was able to numb the arm of a man for several minutes. It was of an ashy colour on the back, while the belly was quite white; the tail and the hind fins were red. Mr. Overweg made a slight sketch of one.

During the night a heavy gale arose, and we had to fasten the ropes attached to the top of the pole; but the storm passed by, and there was not a drop of rain; indeed the rainy season, with regard to Bórnu, had fairly gone by.

[Sidenote: Wednesday, Sept. 17th.]

Enjoyed in the morning the scenery and the fresh air of the river. Men were coming to bathe, women fetching water, and passengers and small

## parties were crossing the river, swimming across with their clothes upon

their heads, or sitting on a yoke of calabashes with the water up to their middle. A kafla or “karábka” of Tébu people from Kánem had arrived the day before, and were encamped on the other side of the river, being eager to cross; but they were not allowed to do so till they had obtained permission; for, during several months, this river or valley forms annually a sort of quarantine line, whilst, during the other portion of the year, small caravans, at least, go to and fro at their pleasure.

The only boat upon the water was a mákara, formed by several yokes of calabashes, and of that frail character described by me in another part of this work, in which we ourselves were to cross the river. Unfortunately it was not possible to enjoy quietly and decently the beautiful shade of the splendid tamarind-trees, on account of the number of waterfowl and pelicans which reside in their branches.

On removing some of my luggage, I found that the white ants were busy destroying, as fast as possible, my leather bags and mats; and we were accordingly obliged to remove every thing, and to place layers of branches underneath. There are great numbers of ants hereabouts; but only moderately sized ant-hills are seen; nothing like the grand structures which I afterwards saw in Bagírmi.

[Sidenote: Thursday, Sept. 18th.]

About two hours after midnight Mr. Overweg arrived, accompanied by one of the most conspicuous of the Welád Slimán, of the name of Khálef- Allah, announcing the approach of our little troop; which did not, however, make its appearance until ten o’clock in the morning, when the most courageous and best mounted of them galloped up to my tent in pairs, brandishing their guns. There were twenty-five horsemen, about a dozen men mounted upon camels, and seven or eight on foot, besides children. They dismounted a little to the east of our tents, and formed quite an animated encampment; though of course quarrels were sure to break out soon.

Feeling a little stronger, I mounted with my fellow-traveller in the afternoon, in order to make a small excursion along the southern shore of the river, in a westerly direction. The river, in general, runs from west to east; but here, above the town, it makes considerable windings, and the shore is not so high as at the ford. The vegetation was beautiful; large tamarind trees forming a dense shade above, whilst the ground was covered with a great variety of plants and herbs just in flower. On the low promontories of the shore were several small fishing villages, consisting of rather low and light huts made of mats, and surrounded by poles for drying the fish, a great many of which, principally of the mullet kind, were just suspended for that purpose. Having enjoyed the aspect of the quiet river-scenery for some time, we returned round the south side of the town. The ground here is hilly; but I think the hills, though at present covered with verdure, are nothing more than mounds of rubbish formed in the course of time round the town, which appears to have been formerly of greater extent.

[Sidenote: Friday, Sept. 19th.]