Part 8

The whole scenery of the town—with its great variety of clay houses, huts, and sheds; its patches of green pasture for oxen, horses, camels, donkeys, and goats; its deep hollows containing ponds overgrown with water-plants; its noble trees, the symmetric gónda or papaya, the slender date-palm, the spreading alléluba, and the majestic bombyx, or silk-cotton tree; the inhabitants, gay in diversified costumes, from the half-naked slave to the most elaborately dressed Arab—forms an animated picture of a world complete in itself; a strange contrast to European towns in external form, and yet, after all, in social inequalities, in the difference of happiness and comfort, activity and laziness, luxury and poverty, exactly similar.

Here a row of shops is filled with articles of native and foreign produce, with noisy buyers and sellers in every variety of figure, complexion, and dress, yet all intent upon gain, and endeavouring to get the advantage of each other; there, a large shed, like a hurdle, full of half-naked, half-starved slaves, torn from their quiet homes, from their wives, husbands, parents, arranged in rows like cattle, and staring with hopeless eyes upon the purchasers, wondering, perhaps, into whose hands it would be their lot to fall. How dark to them the mystery of life! In another part may be seen all that can minister to human ease and comfort, and the wealthy buying dainties and delicacies for his table, while the poor man eyes wistfully a handful of grain. Here a rich governor, dressed in silk and gaudy clothes, mounted upon a spirited and richly caparisoned horse, is followed by a troop of idle, insolent menials; there, a blind pauper gropes his way through the restless, excited multitude, and fears at every step to be trodden underfoot. Observe yonder a yard neatly fenced with mats of reed, and provided with all the comforts which the country affords; a clean, neat-looking cottage, with nicely polished clay walls, a shutter of reeds placed against the low, well-rounded door, to forbid abrupt intrusion on the privacy of domestic life; a cool shed for the daily household work; a fine spreading alléluba tree, affording a pleasant shade in the noontide hours, or a stately gónda or papaya lifting its crown of feather-like leaves on a slender, smooth, and undivided stem, or the tall and useful date-tree, adding its charm to the fair scene of domestic peace and comfort,—the matron, in a clean black cotton gown wound round her waist, and with her hair trimly dressed, busily preparing the meal for her absent husband, or spinning cotton, and at the same time urging the female slaves to pound the corn; the children, naked and merry, playing about in the sand, or chasing a straggling, stubborn goat; earthenware pots and wooden bowls, cleanly washed, all standing in order. Our survey also includes a “máciná”—an open terrace of clay, with a number of dyeing-pans, and people actively employed in various processes of their handicraft: one man stirring the juice, and mixing some colouring wood with the indigo in order to secure the desired tint; another drawing a shirt from the dye-pot, or suspending it to a rope fastened to the trees; and a couple of men busily beating a well-dyed shirt, and singing the while in good time and tune. Further on, a blacksmith with rude tools that an European would disdain, is fashioning a dagger, the sharpness of which will surprise you, or a formidable barbed spear, or some implement of husbandry; beyond, men and women turn an unfrequented thoroughfare to account by hanging up, along the fences, their cotton thread for weaving; and, lastly, close at hand, a group of loiterers idle away the sunny hours.

Ever and anon comes upon the scene a caravan from Gónja, with the much-prized kola-nut, chewed by all who can spare as much or as little as “ten kurdi;” or a caravan passes, laden with natron, bound for Núpa; or a troop of Asbenáwa, going off with their salt for the neighbouring towns; or some Arabs lead their camels, heavily charged with the luxuries of the north and east, to the quarters of the opulent; or a troop of gaudy, warlike-looking horsemen dash towards the palace of the governor with news from some distant province. Everywhere you see human life in its varied forms, the brightest and the most gloomy closely mixed together, as in life itself happiness and sorrow are never divided; every variety of national form and complexion—the olive-coloured Arab; the dark Kanuri, with his wide nostrils; the small-featured, light, and slender Ba-Fillanchi; the broad-faced Ba-Wángara; the stout, large-boned, and masculine-looking Núpa female; the well-proportioned and comely Ba-Haúshe woman.

The regular population of Kanó numbers about 30,000 souls, but is raised to 60,000, from January to April, by the influx of strangers. Its trade principally consists of cotton stuffs sold under the form of tebi, a kind of blouse; tenkédi, the long scarf or dark blue drapery worn by the women; the zunie, a kind of plaid, very bright in colour; and the black turban, worn by the Towaregs. At Kanó are concentrated also the products of northern, eastern, and western Africa, flowing thither through the channels of Mourzouk, Ghat, Tripoli, Timbúktu, and the whole of Bornú.

Early in March the intrepid traveller resumed his journey, across an open and pleasant country. At Zurrikulo he entered Bornú proper. The beautiful fan-palm was here the prevailing tree; but as Barth advanced, he met with the kuka, or _Adansonia digitata_, and the landscape brightened with leafiness, and soon he entered upon a pleasant tract of dense green underwood. “The sky was clear,” he says, “and I was leaning carelessly upon my little nag, musing on the original homes of all the plants which now adorn different countries, when I saw advancing towards us a strange-looking person, of very fair complexion, richly dressed and armed, and accompanied by three men on horseback, likewise armed with musket and pistols. Seeing that he was a person of consequence, I rode quickly up to him and saluted him, when he, measuring me with his eyes, halted and asked me whether I was the Christian who was expected to arrive from Kanó; and on my answering him in the affirmative, he told me distinctly that my fellow-traveller, Yakúb (Mr. Richardson), had died before reaching Kúkáwa, and that all his property had been seized. This sad intelligence deeply affected me; and, in the first moment of excitement, I resolved to leave my two young men behind with the camels, and to hurry on alone on horseback. But as I could not reach Kúkáwa in less than four days, and as part of the road was greatly infested by the Tawárek (or Towaregs), such an attempt might have exposed me to a great deal of inconvenience. Therefore, we determined to go on as fast as the camels would allow us.”

Four days later, and Dr. Barth saw before him the wall of white clay which surrounds the capital of Bornú. He entered the gate, and of some people assembled there inquired the way to the sheikh’s residence. Passing the little market-place, and following the dendal, or promenade, he rode straight up to the palace which flanks the palace on the east. The sheikh received him cordially, and provided him with quarters closely adjoining the vizier’s house; these consisted of two immense courtyards, the more secluded of which enclosed, besides a half-finished clay dwelling, a spacious and neatly built hut, which, he ascertained, had been specially prepared for the reception and accommodation of the English mission. It taxed all Dr. Barth’s energy and perseverance to obtain the restoration of Mr. Richardson’s property; but he finally succeeded. He also obtained a loan of money on the credit of the British Government, which enabled him to satisfy his creditors, pay Mr. Richardson’s servants, and provide for the prosecution of the labours which had been so unhappily interrupted.

The capital of Bornú consists of two towns, each surrounded by a wall: one, inhabited by the rich, is well built, and contains some very large residences; the other is a labyrinth of narrow streets of small and squalid houses. Between the two towns spreads an area of about eight hundred yards each way, which, throughout its length, is traversed by a great highway, serving as a channel of intercommunication. This area is largely peopled; and a picturesque aspect it presents, with its spacious mansions and thatched huts, its solid walls of mud and its fences of reeds, varying in colour, according to their age, from the brightest yellow to the deepest black.

In the surrounding district are numerous little villages, hamlets, and isolated farms, all walled. Every Monday a fair is held between two of these villages, lying beyond the western gate; to which the inhabitant of the province brings, on the back of his camel or his ox, his store of butter and corn, with his wife perched upon the top of the burden; and the Yédiná, that pirate of Lake Tchad, who attracts our admiration by the delicacy of his features and the suppleness of his figure, his dried fish, flesh of hippopotamus, and whips made of the animal’s leathery hide. Provisions are abundant; but to lay in at one time a week’s supply is a wearisome and troublesome task, and a task all the more wearisome and burdensome, because there is no standard money for buying and selling. The ancient standard of the country, the pound of copper, has fallen into disuse; and the currency partly consists of “gábagá,” or cotton-strips, and “kungóna,” or cowries. A small farmer, who brings his corn to the market, will refuse cowries, however, and will rarely accept of a dollar. The would-be purchaser, therefore, must first exchange a dollar for cowries; then, with the cowries, must buy a “kúlgu,” or shirt; and in this way will be able at last to obtain the required quantity of corn.

Provisions are not only abundant, but cheap, and the variety is considerable. For corn,—wheat, rice, and millet; for fruits,—ground-nuts, the bito, or fruit of the _Balanites Ægyptiaca_, a kind of _physalis_, the African plum, the _Rhamnus lotus_, and the dúm-palm; for vegetables—beans and onions, and the young leaves of the monkey-bread tree.

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Dr. Barth had spent three weeks at Kúkáwa, when, on the evening of the 14th of April, the Sheikh Omar and his vizier departed on a short visit to Ngornu, and at their invitation he followed next morning. The road thither was marked with the monotony which distinguishes the neighbourhood of the capital. At first, nothing is seen but the _Asclepias gigas_; then some low bushes of cucifera; and gradually trees begin to enliven the landscape. The path is broad and well trodden, but generally consists of a deep sandy soil. There are no villages along the road, but several at a little distance. Two miles and a half from Ngornu the trees cease, giving way to an immense fertile plain where cereals are cultivated as well as beans.

At Ngornu, the town of “the blessing,” our traveller arrived about an hour after noon. The heat being very great, the streets were almost deserted; but the houses, or rather yards, were crowded, tents having been pitched for the accommodation of the visitors. Except the sheikh’s residence, scarcely a clay house was to be seen; yet the town gave a general impression of comfort and prosperity, and every yard was fenced with new “séggadé” mats, and well shaded by leafy koma-trees, while the huts were large and spacious.

Early next morning the indefatigable traveller started forth on horseback to refresh himself with a view of Lake Tchad, which he supposed to be at no great distance, and of which he indulged the brightest visions. But no shining expanse of fair waters greeted his eye; wherever he directed his gaze, he saw only an endless grassy, treeless plain, stretching to the farthest horizon. At length, riding through grass of constantly increasing freshness and luxuriance, he reached a shallow swamp, the irregular and deeply indented margin of which greatly impeded his progress. After struggling for some time to get clear of it, and vainly straining his eyes to discover a shimmer of water in the distance, he retraced his steps. Mentioning on his return the ill success he had met with, the vizier undertook to send some horsemen to conduct him along the shore as far as Káwa, whence he could cross the country to Kúkáwa.

When the time came, however, the vizier’s promise was represented by two horsemen only. With them Dr. Barth started on his excursion, taking a north-east direction. The broad grassy plain seemed to roll away to an immeasurable distance, unrelieved by tree or shrub; not a living creature was visible, and the hot rays of the sun fell all around like burning arrows. After about half an hour’s ride, he reached swampy ground, through which he and his companions forced their horses, often up to the saddle. Thus they arrived on the margin of a fine open sheet of water, fringed thickly with papyrus and tall reed, from ten to fourteen feet high, among which wound and interwound the garlands of a yellow-flowered climbing plant, called “boibuje.” Turning to the north, and still pushing onward through deep water and grass, he made a small creek called Dímbebú, and caught sight of a couple of small flat boats, each about twelve feet long, and manned by a couple of men, who, on descrying the stranger, pulled off from the shore. They were Búdduma, or Yédiná, the pirates of the Tchad, in search of human prey; and Dr. Barth hastened to warn of their presence some villagers who had come to cut reeds for the roofs of their huts, and evidently had not caught sight of their enemies. He then continued his march. The sun’s heat was intense, but a fresh cooling breeze blowing from the lagoon rendered it endurable. Large herds of kelára, a peculiar kind of antelope, started up as he advanced, bounding swiftly over the rushes, and sometimes swimming on the silent waters. They are like the roe in shape and size, with their under parts white as snow. At another creek, which the lake pirates sometimes use as a harbour, river-horses abounded, and the air echoed with their snorting. This was the easternmost period of Dr. Barth’s ride; turning then a little west from north, he and his escort marched over drier pasture-grounds, and, in about three miles, struck a deeply indented and well-sheltered creek, called Ngómaíen. Here the curiosity of the traveller was rewarded by the sight of eleven boats of the Yédiná. Each was about twenty feet long, tolerably broad, with a low waist, and a high pointed prow. They are made of the narrow planks of the fógo-tree, fastened together with ropes from the dúm-palm, the holes being stopped with bast.

Another ride, and Dr. Barth turned westward—a course which brought him to Maduwári, a pleasant village, lying in the shade of trees, where he resolved on halting for the night. From its inhabitants, who belong to the tribe of the Sagárti, he obtained much information respecting the numerous islands that stud the surface of the lake. They also told him that the open water begun one day’s voyage from Káya, the small harbour of Maduwári, and is from one to two fathoms deep. It stretches from the mouth of the Sháry towards the western shore; all the rest of the lake consisting of swampy meadow-lands, occasionally inundated. Next morning, on resuming his journey, he was charmed by the bright and gracious picture before him. Clear and unbroken were the lines of the horizon, the swampy plain extending on the right towards the lake, and blending with it, so as to allow the mind that delights in wandering over distant regions a boundless expanse to rove in—an enjoyment not to be found in mountainous regions, be the mountains ever so distant. Thus they travelled slowly northwards, while the sun rose over the patches of water which brightened the grassy plain; and on their left the village displayed its snug yards and huts, neatly fenced and shaded by spreading trees. At Dógoji he came upon a hamlet or station of cattle-breeders, where a thousand head were collected; the herdsmen being stationed on guard around them, armed with long spears and light shields. Equidistant poles were fixed in the ground, on which the butter was hung up in skins or in vessels made of grass.

Turning to the eastward, Dr. Barth reached the creek “Kógorani,” surrounded by a belt of dense reeds, and was there joined by a Kánemma chief, named Zaitchua, with five horsemen. The party rode on towards Bolè, passing through very deep water, and obtained a view of the widest part of the lake they had yet seen. A fine open sheet of water, agitated by a light easterly wind, rippled in sparkling waves upon the shore. A reedy forest spread all around, while the surface was bright with aquatic plants, chiefly the beautiful water-lily, or _Nymphoea lotus_. Flocks of waterfowl of every description played about. At length they reached Káwa, a large straggling village, lying among magnificent trees, where Dr. Barth’s’ excursion terminated; thence he returned to Kúkáwa.

On the 7th of May he was joined there by Mr. Overweg, and the two travellers immediately made their preparations for resuming the work of exploration with which they had been charged by the British Government. These were completed by the 29th of May (1851), and the two travellers then set out for the southward, accompanied by an officer of the sheikh, and attended by a small company of servants and warriors. A singular variety of country greeted them as they moved forward: at first it was low and swampy; then came a bare and arid soil, planted with scattered tamarisks; next, a dense forest, partly inundated in the rainy season, and, afterwards, a broad and fertile plain, sprinkled with villages, and white with thriving crops of cotton. This was the district of Uji, which comprises several places of a considerable size. Thence they entered upon a fine open country, a continuous corn-field, interrupted only by pleasant villages, and shaded here and there by single monkey-bread trees, or Adansonias, and various kinds of fig-trees, with their succulent dark-green foliage, or large fleshy leaves of emerald green. A fiumara, or water-course, which rises near Aláwó, traverses the plain with numerous curves and bends, and passing Dekùa, falls into the Tchad. The travellers crossed it twice before they reached Mabani, a large and prosperous town, with a population of nine or ten thousand souls, which covers the sides and summit of a hill of sand. From this point their road lay through fertile fields, where they were greeted by the sight of the first corn-crop of the season, its fresh and vivid green sparkling daintily in the sunshine. Having crossed and recrossed the fiumara, they ascended its steep left bank, which in some places exhibited regular strata of sandstone. Here they passed a little dyeing-yard of two or three pots, while several patches of indigo flourished at the foot of the bank, and a bustling group of men and cattle were gathered round the well. Villages were seen lying about in every direction; and single cottages, scattered about here and there, gave evidence of a sense of security. The corn-fields were most agreeably broken by tracts covered with bushes of the wild gónda, which has a most delicious fruit, of a fine creamy flavour, and of the size of a peach, but with a much larger stone.

Mount Délabida marked the border line of a mountainous region. After entering upon the district of Shamo, Barth observed that millet became rare, and that the sorghum was generally cultivated. Here he and his party were joined by some native traders; for robbers haunted the neighbourhood, and safety was to be found in numbers. At every step they came upon evidences of the misfortunes which had swept and scathed the country: traces of ancient cultivation and ruined huts; and thick interwoven jungles, where the grass grew so high as to hide both horse and rider. After three hours’ march through this land of desolation, they arrived at what had once been a considerable village, but was then inhabited only by a few natives, recently converted to the religion of the Crescent. As but a single hut could be found for the accommodation of the whole company, Dr. Barth preferred to encamp in the open air. But he had scarcely laid down to rest, when a terrible storm arose, sweeping his tent to the ground, and flooding his baggage with torrents of rain. To such adventures is the daring traveller exposed!

Though they had embraced Islam, the natives wore no other clothing than a strip of leather passed between the legs, and even this seemed by some of them to be considered a superfluity. The observer could not fail to remark their harmonious proportions, their regular features, undisfigured by tattooing, and, in not a few cases, presenting no resemblance to the negro type. The difference of complexion noticeable in individuals presumably of the same race, was remarkable. With some it was a brilliant black; with others a rhubarb colour, and there was no example of an intermediate tint; the black, however, predominated. A young woman and her son, aged eight years, formed a group “quite antique,” and worthy of the chisel of a great artist. The child, especially, in no respect yielded to the ancient Discophorus; his hair was short and curled, but not woolly; his complexion, like that of his mother and the whole family, was of a pale or yellowish red.

Re-entering the forest, Dr. Barth observed that the clearings bore the imprints of the feet of elephants of all ages. A wealth of flowers loaded the atmosphere with fragrant incense. But the soil soon deteriorated; the trees were nearly all mimosas, and nearly all of indifferent growth, with here and there a large leafless Adansonia flinging abroad, as if in despair, its gaunt gigantic arms; while the herbage consisted only of single tufts of coarse grass, four or five feet high. When things are at their worst they begin to mend; and for the traveller there is no motto more applicable than the old proverb, that it is a long lane which has no turning. With intense delight Dr. Barth and his companions saw the monotonously gloomy forest giving way to scattered clusters of large and graceful trees, such as generally indicate the neighbourhood of human labour. And they soon emerged upon bright green meadow-lands extending to the base of the Wandala mountain-range, which rose like a barrier of cloud upon the horizon, from north to south. The highest elevation of this range is about 3000 feet; its average elevation does not exceed 2500 feet. Behind it, to a point of 5000 feet above the sea, rises the conical mass of Mount Mendefi, first seen by gallant Major Denham. The country now gradually assumed a wilder aspect; rocks of sandstone and granite projected on all sides, while, in front, a little rocky ridge, densely crowded with bush and tree, seemed to form a _ne plus ultra_. Suddenly, however, a deep recess opened in it, and a village was seen, lying most picturesquely in the heart of the rocks and woods. This was Laháula, where the travellers rested for the night. Next day they reached Uba, on the border of A’damáwa; A’damáwa, described by Dr. Barth as “a Mohammedan kingdom engrafted upon a mixed stock of pagan tribes—the conquest of the valorous and fanatic Pállo chieftain, A’dáma, over the great pagan kingdom of Fúmbiná.”