Part 7

Some time afterwards Mohammed Erbeimi made an attempt to get his revenge. Reinforced by a contingent of Senoussists from Koufra, he organized a flying column a hundred rifles strong and flung it by a rapid march on our lines of communication between Borkou and Wadai, where our last supplies of the year were on their way. Thanks to the treachery of a Nakazza chief, he was able at daybreak to surprise one of our convoys on the march. Though the escort counted only fifteen rifles under a black sergeant, our black troops offered a bold front; but, overpowered by numbers and deserted by the camel-drivers, all they could do was to save their honour and fall in their tracks. That took place 150 miles south of Faya, in the desert of Mortcha. Now, it so happened that Adjutant Amboroko, with a force of seventy-five rifles, had been patrolling for two days in that same desert, on the look-out for Mohammed Erbeimi’s raiding party, my spies having notified me, albeit rather late, of its appearance on the scene. He was not able to get on its tracks till sixteen hours after the wiping-out of the convoy escort, when he set off at once in pursuit. Two hours later he came upon it by surprise and routed it in a few minutes by a vigorous bayonet-charge; the enemy, taken completely off his guard, abandoned his booty and a certain number of dead, and made off hastily eastwards. Amboroko, an old hand at desert fighting, thereupon judged it expedient to let the Toubous get a few miles’ start, and so lead them to think that he held himself satisfied by the recapture of our supplies of cereals and of our camels, and was going to take back the camels at once to Faya. He calculated that as soon as the first spell of panic was over the rebels would get together to discuss the advisability of a counter-attack. His forecast turned out correct. Resuming the pursuit under cover of night, he again came in sight of the raiding-party towards three in the morning, in regular order once more, and holding a palaver round the bivouac fires. Closing in to short range he poured in a rapid fire, immediately followed by a bayonet-charge that laid out a dozen Toubous, while the rest in utter panic fled at top speed in all directions, some on foot, others hanging on to the tails of their camels that made off at full gallop without leaving time for their riders to get astride. The hunt went on till noon, and supplied us with a few prisoners who gave the most precise details of the treachery of the Nakazza chief; after which Amboroko retraced his steps to take in charge the convoy of supplies and bring it into Faya. But he was of opinion that our brave soldiers fallen the day before were not sufficiently avenged, and providing himself with fresh camels he set out at once in pursuit, seeking all across the desert the tracks of those who had escaped his two counter-attacks. Going further and further afield, he found himself finally 300 miles to the eastward among the rocks of Erdi, where the families of Mohammed Erbeimi’s Toubous were in hiding, and engaged in two fights with them which cost the rebels some thirty killed; but the old chief unluckily succeeded once more in bringing his head safely out of the business.

Early in 1917 the revolt might be considered as crushed. The tribes had begun to discuss terms of submission, all except Mohammed Erbeimi’s tribe, the remnant of which had taken refuge in the massif of Ouri 300 miles north-east of Faya, and was not in a condition to do any harm for a certain time.

=9. Homeward Journey.=

Then I saw my interminable sojourn in the desert brought to an end by the person of Captain Gauckler, an experienced commander of camel-corps, who had seen most of his service in the African colonies, and was come from the French front to replace me in Borkou. Thus my turn on the Western Front was to come early enough to enable me to share in the gigantic battle that could be foreseen, from the hour when Russia fell out of the fight, as imminent and decisive. The French Government having replied favourably to my request for permission to return to France by way of Egypt, this return journey would allow me to effect the geodetic and topographical liaison between Borkou and Dar Four—in other words, to accomplish the last part of the geographical programme that toward the end of the last century I had set myself to carry out.

_From Borkou to Wadai._—I left the oasis of Faya on 25 April 1917 in an east-south-easterly direction, skirting the foot of the western spurs of the high tablelands of Ennedi. In ten days I reached the post of Fada, where Captain Châteauvieux presented to me the chiefs Gaëdas and Mourdias, whom two long years of incessant struggles had constrained to submit; we discussed and settled in concert the conditions on which the “aman” should be granted them. After which, turning my back on the picturesque rocks of Ennedi, I went on my way towards the south-west, across the desert of Mortcha, to reach the wells of Oum Chalouba. These wells, situated in the Wadi Hachim, belong to the Nakazzas, one of the principal Toubou tribes of Borkou, who are masters, under our control, of the oasis surrounding the post of Fada, but whose submission to our authority did not prevent them from entertaining with our enemies relations as cordial as they were clandestine, that gave us endless trouble. The judgment-seat of the native court over which I presided was heaped high with complaints and claims for damages against their chiefs, Allatchi and Djimmi. Their low cunning and double-dealing exasperated me; but since my return to Europe it has become evident to me that, like many other reputable persons, they were simply engaged in politics.

[Illustration: The author’s routes between Tibesti and the Nile]

The wells of Oum Chalouba are very important, both because of their position at the extreme southern limit of the Sahara and because they never run dry. Accordingly, the caravans that go and come between Wadai and the Mediterranean by Ounianga and Koufra all pass through this station, where, it may be added, their sojourn is usually brief owing to the high price of food.

It is 140 miles from Oum Chalouba to Abéché, the capital of Wadai, in a general direction from north to south, across a region of great plains intersected by valleys running from east to west in which a few wooded galleries bear witness to the annual passage of ephemeral torrents that come down from the granitic hills and tablelands of Zagawa and Tama. The summer rains are not sufficient to permit the cultivation of native cereals, but they produce extensive and abundant pasturage, where Mahamid tribes graze fine herds of oxen and flocks of sheep and goats.

Two military posts ensure the policing and administration of the country: Arada, the commissariat centre of a camel-corps section, and Biltine, where a company of black troops is garrisoned. It is in the neighbourhood of Biltine that the first villages of the sedentary tribes are seen, the Mimis, then the Kodois. The millet fields, small at first and far apart, increase in size and frequency as one gets further south; but the harvests are still uncertain, for spells of drought are by no means rare. The year 1913 was especially fatal; the grain dried up on the stalk, and there was such a shortage when the crops were got in that a terrible famine spread over the whole country during the first eight months of 1914. Many inhabitants had to emigrate southwards, and those who had not foresight enough to flee in time, chiefly old men and children, died of hunger in the villages they had not been willing to leave. The number of the inhabitants of Wadai who perished thus is estimated at more than half, some say even at more than three-quarters. The population of Wadai, put by Nachtigal at more than two millions in 1872, had fallen to 300,000 when I went that way.

_Abéché._—At sunrise on 31 May 1917 I came in sight of Abéché, the famous capital of the sultans who had made of Wadai one of the most powerful Soudanese kingdoms of the nineteenth century. Seen from a distance, it looks like a little cluster, grey and huddled, of low houses, overtopped by a few towers with pointed roofs, and had nothing of the handsome appearance that had impressed Nachtigal nearly fifty years before. It was now no more than a small town of three or four thousand people, and more than half ruined. It is true that ruins are accumulated with extreme rapidity in Central Africa, where the finest houses are only ill-built huts of clay kneaded and baked in the sun, and quickly falling into dilapidation every rainy season. The plain surrounding the town looks no better, being scantily covered with dry grasses and little green clumps of “m’keit” which our camels browsed on with lively satisfaction. The shrub-tribe was almost exclusively represented by little “oshar,” whose puffy-looking fruits enclose a silky down like “kapok”; as for the mimosa family, so abundant in the neighbouring bush, it had well-nigh disappeared, as often happens near the negro habitations through the wasteful use made of it as firewood.

Abéché has retained few traces of its ancient splendour. The former palace of the sultans, kept till that time as a specimen of the architecture of Wadai, had just been pulled down by order of the new governor of the province. Round about it was strewn a mass of _débris_, on which were slowly rising new buildings of a highly military style. Only the business quarter of Am Sogou and the market-place had kept a busy and animated aspect. Men, women, and merry black small-fry bustled noisily to and fro, inextricably mixed up with asses, camels, dogs, and horses. Numerous Tripolitan merchants, white-faced, wearing red fezzes and long flowing embroidered robes, stalked gravely back and forth, making it evident by their decorous elegance and the satisfaction visible on their faces that, in spite of the suppression of the slave- traffic, business remained active and prosperous.

_From Wadai to Dar Four._—I was forced, much against my will, to stay ten long days at Abéché before continuing my journey. The road usually followed from Abéché to El Fasher passes through Dar Massalit to Kebkebia, along the valleys of Wadi Kadja and Wadi Barré; it is about 220 miles long and very easy, except from August to October or November, when the summer rains fill the rivers and temporary marshes, very numerous in this region. But since that route had been reconnoitred formerly by Nachtigal, and very recently by Colonel Hilaire, the idea had occurred to me of studying a more northerly route unknown throughout two-thirds of its length, and passing through Dar Tama, Dar Guimer, and northern Dar Four.

_Dar Tama._—This project having obtained the approbation of the Government, I was able to leave Abéché on June 9, and plunged into a very broken granitic region, where the rise and fall was inconsiderable, but which was intersected by numerous wooded valleys where marching was no very easy matter, especially at night. But I had the advantage of passing through an inhabited tract where water was frequently to be found, a consideration of importance for the feeding of a little group of Zagawa women and children whom I was taking back to Dar Four after a long and eventful sojourn in the wilderness. Captured the year before by the same Toubou raiders whom we had to go in pursuit of, they had been delivered by our camel-corps, and were going back to their families under the protection of my escort. We went from village to village, forced to change guides at every halt, and to stay long enough to listen to the compliments with which the notabilities bade us welcome. In addition to the compliments, they brought us water, millet, eggs, a little milk, and sometimes a sheep or a goat. Around the villages there were many fields of millet and sorgho, and it was not unusual to meet with gardens, in which cotton, tobacco, and spices were the most frequent products.

In this way we reached the plateaux of Dar Tama, averaging from 2500 to 3000 feet in altitude, where on the gently undulating surface the going was pleasanter than on the rough slopes of the foothills leading up to the tableland. A few lonely eminences rose here and there, the loftiest of which, the peak of Niéré, visible for 30 miles around, reaches a height of 4500 feet. For the first time in more than four years I saw once again the thick-leaved tamarind trees, whose beautiful green is a rest to the eyes, and in whose shade the traveller is glad to halt during the hottest hours.

On June 13, after a long stage during which our successive guides had led us in needless zigzags, we arrived at the foot of Mount Niéré, where there is a village called Nannaoua. Here we camped in the deep shade of two or three white acacias, less than 500 yards from the spot where in 1909 one of the brilliant contemporary explorers of Central Africa, the regretted English Lieutenant Boyd Alexander, was assassinated. My tent had hardly been pitched an hour when a messenger came to announce the visit of the Sultan of Tama, who desired to present his compliments and bid me welcome. This mark of courteous deference was all the pleasanter from the fact that on leaving Abéché I had been put on my guard against a possible want of cordiality during my passage through Tama. I immediately had a mat of palm-fibre, in default of carpets, laid down at the entrance to my tent, and advanced to meet the sultan, a handsome, white-bearded old man with a black skin and kindly intelligent eyes; he was dressed in the flowing robe in use throughout Central Africa, but made of fine linen richly embroidered. He wore brown boots made in Europe, and his careful attention to his personal appearance went the length of socks. On his head was a red fez, round which ran a narrow twist of white muslin, and he walked with slow and stately steps, his left hand resting on the shoulder of one of his servants.

Our interview lasted upwards of half an hour, and was extremely cordial; the sultan urged me to break up my camp the same afternoon in order to go and sleep in his capital of Niéré, where he had had huts made ready for us; but in reply I alleged the exhaustion of our camels, which were in urgent need of grazing till evening. Besides, I had to make a stellar observation at that particular spot in order to calculate exactly the position and altitude of the mountain of Niéré, the most remarkable point, geographically speaking, of the whole region. Soon afterwards I saw the sultan was waiting for me to rise and take leave; I helped him up and accompanied him a few steps from my tent. His servants and dependents were waiting outside for him in the ritual attitude of the courtiers of the ancient sultans of Central Africa, that is to say, prostrated to the ground, their knees and elbows resting on the earth, and their hind-quarters level with their head.

He called the chief of the village of Nannaoua to give him instructions with a view to our comfort. The latter got up and came to listen to his suzerain’s commands, kneeling before him with clasped hands, downcast eyes, and devoutly attentive face. When the sultan ceased speaking, the village chief clapped his hands several times and got up to go at once and transmit to his subjects the orders he had just received.

Early next morning I reached the camp that had been prepared for me in the shade of some “kournas” near the well, but the huts were so low roofed and uncomfortable that I preferred to pitch my tent, severely damaged as it was by four years’ wear and tear. I had to stay two days at Niéré to wait for the arrival of four camels intended to replace the pack-carrying oxen I had to send back to Abéché.

The capital of Tama is only a small village covering about 35 acres, where the straw huts are set rather far apart; the inhabitants, by no means numerous, consist almost exclusively of the families and servants of the dignitaries immediately surrounding the sultan. Other villages are scattered about the neighbourhood, usually lying at the foot of isolated rocks of no great height, but of very characteristic geometrical shapes, rising out of the uniform tableland like natural landmarks destined to rejoice the hearts of a triangulation brigade.

In our camp an unpleasant surprise awaited us: hardly had we settled down when we saw coming down from the kournas whole battalions of caterpillars that made straight towards us and obstinately set about climbing all over our packing-cases, chairs, clothes, and persons in quest of a quiet and shady corner where they could comfortably instal their cocoons and go to sleep in the hope of a happy metamorphosis. We hunted them, killed them, but to no purpose, for still they came. And these caterpillars, sociable to a fault, are tormentors of the worst type: wherever they go they leave behind them invisible hairs that burn like nettles. Next morning we were all scratching furiously, unable to find even momentary relief except in applications of very hot water. My trunk of books was infested, and, above all, that which contained my linen; so also were my bedclothes. All the washing, swilling, and beating I could do failed to rid my clothes entirely of this pest, and I had to endure its tortures for long as best I might. It was only when I got to Khartoum and could get fresh clothes and throw away my up-country garments, if such they could be called, that I really found a little peace. In the evening a thick cloud of locusts came and settled on the region; in a few minutes the trees were covered with them, and their green changed to the pink hue of these voracious insects’ bodies.

The sultan came repeatedly to see me. He was fond of talking and telling me his history and that of Tama during the preceding decade; he also told me the story of the murder of Boyd Alexander as it was related to him not many days after the tragic event by his predecessor the Sultan Othman and the chief Adem Rouyal, commander of the Forian force sent from Dar Four by the Sultan Ali Dinar to drive the French out of Wadai.[2] The sultan was above all interested in the Franco-Anglo-German war; he asked question after question, and I had a great deal of trouble in giving him a hazy idea of the formidable masses of war material, supplies, cannon, rifles, and the unheard-of numbers of men brought into action on both sides.

Thanks to his good offices, I was able to get the supplies I was in daily need of for my detachment; and in these days of excessively dear living it will not perhaps be without interest to give a summary list, at this point, of the prices that were asked me:

_s._ _d._

A small yearling ox 12 0

200 lbs. of millet flour 4 0

An average-sized sheep 2 6

Chickens 0 6½

One pound of butter 0 3

„ „ onions 0 3

A quart of milk 0 1

Had we been wise enough to have rational ideas about railways in Africa, and to have them in time, what a help the Black Continent would be to us now! I trust the ordeal we are going through to-day may induce France and Great Britain, the two great guardians of the Black population, to join in intimate union in order to labour together at the great work of opening up Africa and turning its resources to account—a work that must be undertaken at once! But this is a vast question, and one that must be treated separately; so I beg to be excused for this digression.

In the afternoon of the 10th, having succeeded in hiring the necessary five camels, two of them enormous, and the other three of the tiniest, I took leave of Sultan Hassan to go on with my journey towards Guimer. Four days later I arrived at Koulbouss, the temporary residence of the Sultan of Guimer.

_Dar Guimer._—The welcome I received was of the chilliest. Two hundred yards from the village a son of the Sultan Idriss came all alone to meet me, and announced that his father had started a few days earlier for El Fasher; and then, skirting the village, he led me down the valley to a spot where a dilapidated hut, not far from a well and at the entrance of what had once been a piece of enclosed land, was offered me in which to take up my quarters. I had great difficulty in obtaining a few provisions, and two days were spent in animated discussions before I could get a guide and four hired camels to replace those lent me in Tama. Even so I only got them thanks to the good offices of a Zagawa chief who had come to greet me on my passage because he had on a former occasion found his relations with the French authorities of Wadai turn out greatly to his advantage. But I could not get the sort of current information about the country and its inhabitants usually given to travellers by the natives. However, when I showed my surprise at the residence of the Sultan of Guimer at Koulbouss, which is in Tama territory, the son of Sultan Idriss condescended to explain that that installation was only temporary, having been authorized towards 1910 by Sultan Hassan of Tama by reason of the raids the Sultan of Guimer had had to undergo at the hands of the Forian bands of Ali Dinar. His return to his own capital was to take place shortly, the occupation of El Fasher by the Anglo-Egyptian troops having put an end to these incursions.

I left Koulbouss on 22 June early in the morning, with no great confidence in the success of my enterprise, for the guide assigned to me did not seem any too satisfied at the idea of taking me to Kebkebia, from which we were separated by a stretch of almost completely uninhabited country nearly 120 miles across, and in which the water- points were few and quite possibly dried up. Very luckily, everything went as well as could be imagined; I saw no trace of the Senoussist raid, so called, which local rumour credited for some time with having caught me by surprise, taken me prisoner, and carried me off as a hostage to Koufra. A few wells were found, very nearly dry, but we were careful in husbanding our supply of water. We saw very few inhabitants and met no caravan. What worried me most, and most unexpectedly, was the grazing question, for the country, though covered with scrub, was so dried up that our camels hardly ever got a satisfying feed and grew most disquietingly thin.