CHAPTER XVI
Land near the Bara-Issa — Tuaregs — A salt caravan — Stalking hartebeest — Lake Niangaye — The village of Kanioumé — My runaway horse — Tracking elephants — Elephants bathing — A stampede of elephants — A wounded elephant — Cave dwellers — Sandstorms and rifles.
ON the 21st of March I left Saraféré. I had managed to buy a horse here, being glad to have my own mount at last. He was a little animal, a dark bay, about fourteen hands; not exactly the most suitable beast for the work for which I required him, but horses were not easy to buy. In any case, the price could not be called exorbitant. I paid the sum of seventy-five francs, or three pounds, for him, the saddle and bridle included!
I still had to be content with a native saddle and bridle, for European horse-gear was not to be had in the Western Soudan. His previous owner was a native clerk in the Resident’s office, who informed me that he was selling as he proposed closing his stables! Fortunately I was a light weight, and as he appeared to be a wiry little beggar in spite of his somewhat weedy looks, I came to the conclusion he would be good enough for what was expected of him. He was, of course, innocent of any knowledge of trotting. His only two paces were an amble and a walk. He could amble fast or he could amble slow, but had not much idea of galloping.
The country was very similar to that between Sébi and Saraféré. In the season of inundations it would not have been practicable to travel by road, as the existing track would have been several feet deep in water. The only mode of transport then possible is by canoe. Rice and millet are the products of this country, the land near the streams and backwaters of the Bara-Issa being eminently suited to the cultivation of these cereals. On the banks of these streams are the villages, but as soon as one strikes into the interior, away from the water, the country becomes more than ever desert-like in character, and human habitations are confined to a few isolated Tuareg encampments. The people in the villages are Fulanis, as usual possessed of big herds of cattle. The Tuaregs, on the other hand, owned sheep and goats, which seemed to thrive in a marvellous manner on the poor provender found in the sandy waste surrounding them. A coarse-looking grass, or mimosa scrub, formed their fare.
These Tuaregs are hardly the same class of that tribe as are found in the desert proper on the other side of the Niger. They are nomads, preferring the isolated life away from villages, it is true, but at the same time they do not so utterly shun all contact with mankind as do their brethren of the Sahara. I suppose being nearer to civilization and luxuries, they have begun to feel the want of these things, and have to a certain extent degenerated. Anyway, they would appear to be now less hardy than before. Their dwelling-places consist either of small tents made of sheepskins, or else of little huts made of branches of mimosa scrub and palm leaves. Hut is rather a dignified name to apply to these habitations. They are, perhaps, a dozen feet square, and so low that a man must always remain in a crouched position if he tries to stand up inside. It is strange how they succeed in getting their wives and families into this tiny space. Certainly their personal belongings are few, for they are very poor, and their wealth, such as it is, is all in their flocks of goats or sheep.
One day we met a large salt caravan coming down from Timbuctu, and en route to a place called Douentza, some days’ march south of Saraféré. The salt is carried in big rectangular bars, and, in this case, was laden on donkeys and bullocks. The loads are usually fastened into a kind of stout rope netting, like a bag. These nets are then fastened one on each side of the beast of burden, over a roughly shaped pack-saddle.
Women pounding rice at Tombola, French Guinea
Rice is pounded in a wooden bowl with a heavy wooden club. The women spend hours daily in preparing the rice thus, chanting the while.
These traders were all Hausas, travelling with their wives and children. They cover about fifteen miles a day in this manner, and are so abstemious in their habits that they generally make a large profit on their transactions. They drink only water as a rule, while their diet is of the most frugal kind, helped out with a few kola nuts, of which they are exceedingly fond. The nut has rather a bitter taste, but one soon gets accustomed to it. The Hausas can exist without food for a considerable time, provided they have some kola nut to chew. There is no doubt that its sustaining properties are great, while, when water has been scarce, I have found it a first-rate plan to keep a piece of the fruit in one’s mouth and close the teeth on it.
The head of this caravan was a native merchant of some importance. Early next morning we saw him on the road preparing to start. He wore flowing white robes, and made a picturesque figure mounted on his gaily caparisoned steed. I was informed he was a regular trader by that route, and that he always personally superintended the assembly of his caravan before the morning departure. He certainly seemed to have a rather motley collection of both sexes who were under him in perfect control. At his orders they sought out, without much delay, their respective beasts from the grass where they were browsing, and loaded their charges in a most business-like manner.
This place, called Bouramaka-Yororo, was one of the few spots where I saw any full snipe. About two miles’ walk from the village there were some shallow ponds, with marshy banks, which were the homes of these snipe, besides quantities of the grey teal, which I previously described. Most of the different kinds of duck, which I had come across before, were also well represented, but in comparison to the grey teal their numbers were insignificant. The water was covered with a grey sheet of these little birds, but they were very wild, and rose in the air in dense clouds on observing our approach.
The next day we had a long march, through a very sandy region, to the western extremity of Lake Niangaye. We had now left the water system of the River Bara-Issa behind us, and the country was destitute of water until the lake was reached.
I was riding ahead of the carriers with the policeman, as my custom was, when, as we came round a bend in the track, we espied a big herd of Senegal haartebeest. The animals had evidently been down towards the lake, and on perceiving us, galloped off through the scrub to our right front. There were at least forty in the herd, and, in the hopes that they had not gone too far for pursuit, I started off on their tracks. The trail was easy enough to follow, so, leaving the police orderly with our horses, I went off alone. The ground sloped gently in front of me, so I cautiously approached the top, expecting to see the antelope grazing on the far side. Working with the wind in my face, I wended my way gradually to the ridge, and, taking cover behind a mimosa tree, I peered warily over the edge. Sure enough, about eight hundred yards away were the herd, some grazing, while others had their heads turned in the direction from which they had come, evidently not forgetful of the alarm our appearance had caused among them.
I now tried to stalk them by a flank movement, making for a hillock within two hundred yards of the game. Here I hoped to be able to select the best head, and should be within fairly good range. My manœuvring was completely successful until I neared the top of the hillock, and then, by an incautious movement, I foolishly exposed myself to view for a fraction of a second. To my disgust I had been observed, and away scampered the whole herd at a pace which I knew meant that pursuit was out of the question. I took a couple of flying shots at the one I had marked down as being the biggest bull, but they were both clean misses, and I was unable to retrieve the blunder I had made by exposing myself to view. I only saw one herd of these haartebeest as big as this one again. I fancy forty animals in a herd is nothing out of the ordinary, but in the Western Soudan, from my experience, they are generally in much smaller herds.
After the incident of the haartebeest we continued our march towards the lake. The carriers had by this time come up with me, and were eager to get to the water, as the day was hot and they had nothing to drink by the way. Accordingly we pushed on at a good pace, until suddenly a silvery gleam came into view on the horizon, being evidently the first glimpse of Niangaye. As we approached the water became more visible. Here we were near the western extremity of the lake, which extended eastward as far as the eye could reach, while the breadth must have been about three miles. The shores were sandy, and the banks covered with dried-up grass and small bushes. Occasionally a canoe could be seen speeding along under sail, propelled by a stiff breeze from the north-east. The water was a fine open expanse; there were a few clumps of reeds at times near the shores, but these were not dense enough to interfere with navigation.
The wind referred to blows almost constantly from the same quarter. It is strongest from about sunrise till 11 a.m., while in the evening it dies down altogether as a rule. It thus causes a regular tide, with a difference between high and low water of about two feet. As the lake is shallow, the bed shelving very gently, there is a considerable difference between the width of the sandy beach available as a road in the morning and afternoon. The quantity of water in the lake varies greatly with the season of the year; indeed, at the end of the dry weather, about May, it is possible to walk across the lake in several places without so much as wetting the feet.
Lake Niangaye is one of the largest, if not quite the largest, of a system of lakes and backwaters of the Niger and its affluents in the south-west corner of the “Bend” of that river. Lake Niangaye is the most easterly of this system. The whole of this large area is known as the “Lake District,” and all round these waters game of all descriptions abounds. During the season when water is abundant everywhere the game has no difficulty about drinking; it is therefore scattered all over this area, and not so easy to locate. In the dry months, from January to May, however, the case is very different. Water gets scarcer every month, and the drinking-places become more and more restricted, so that the game has to concentrate around the immediate shores of the lakes to get water. Consequently this is the best time of the year for shooting, although one disadvantage is that the heat gets very intense, and, under these conditions, tracking game becomes a very exhausting pastime. The sandy soil surrounding the lakes for many miles scorches the feet, while the sun beats mercilessly down upon the sportsman’s head. Of course, many kinds of animals retire when the sun gets up in the heavens, about nine o’clock; but this is often the best time to find such game as Senegal haartebeest and gazelle, which can be discovered resting from the heat of the day in the shade of a mimosa tree. These animals are sometimes very shy and unapproachable in the early morning or evening, and frequently one’s only chance of a shot at a beast you have been tracking for some time is during the middle of the day, when he is not so much on the alert.
Fulanis at Bambara-Maaundée
These people, living, as they do, in the northern portion of the higher “Bend,” where the Sahara sand has crossed the river and made a determined invasion on the right bank, have adopted the Tuareg “litham.” They are skilled horsemen and experienced cattle-breeders. The national arm is the spear, such as is held by one of the squatting figures.
The village we entered near the western end of the lake was called Kanioumé. I was particularly anxious to stop a few hours here, in order to interview the chief. He was the most influential man in this region, all the villages on the southern shore of Niangaye being subservient to him. This man was a Fulah, and as he had had constant dealings with the Commissioner of the district, on account of his influential position in the country, I had been recommended to make arrangements for local hunters, supplies, and so forth through him. I had been given the names of the best hunters in the district, and was told that this chief would be able to furnish me with them.
The chief was most obliging, providing me with everything I required without delay; but the hunters were not forthcoming. They were, he said, at Douentza, several days’ march away, and the head-quarters of the French Resident. Fortunately, I had taken the precaution, before leaving Saraféré, to write to the Resident of Douentza, informing him of my intended hunting trip in his country, and at the same time mentioning that I wished for the services of these particular hunters. I therefore hoped that they would soon reach me. This chief informed me, and I subsequently discovered that his statement was perfectly correct, that there were practically no native hunters in the region. It appeared that the Fulanis, who formed almost the entire population of this part of the Lake District, never themselves hunted, hence the difficulty of securing a man who knew the haunts of the game in the neighbourhood was great. It seems strange that these people, living in the midst of a country inhabited by wild animals, should not care to hunt them, but so it is. The chief, however, relieved my worst apprehensions to a certain extent by assuring me that at Bambara-Maaundé there was one hunter; I therefore bade him send at once to the man to tell him to be ready to meet me there the next day. At the end of the palaver I rejoiced the chief’s heart with a present of a head of tobacco from my now dwindling store of the leaf.
The chief and a cavalcade of his retinue accompanied me as far as the next village, some six miles further along the lake, where I was going to spend the night. Having made all arrangements for our comfort there, he took his departure.
After leaving Kanioumé the lake widens considerably. The opposite shore cannot be seen until within about three miles of the eastern extremity. The total length of Niangaye is about thirty-five miles. Near Bambara-Maaundé the eastern end is divided into two forks by a high ridge of hills, the width of the neck of land at the foot of these hills and separating the two forks of water being about five miles. The southern shore is much more wooded than the northern shore, but even on the south there are frequently stretches of sandy country without any vegetation other than a coarse grass. The northern shore is also covered in many places with dense reeds, making navigation more difficult. On both sides of the lake the ground rises rather rapidly, until a plateau, two to three hundred feet above the level of the water, is reached. Most of the game is on this plateau on the southern side of Niangaye, merely coming down daily to drink.
For a few days I made Bambara-Maaundé my head-quarters, leaving camp early every morning and returning at midday, then going out again in the afternoon. I found the hunter, who had been ordered to be ready at the village, awaiting my arrival. So far there was no news from Douentza of the two hunters I had sent for, so I sent another urgent runner to the Resident for them. The day after my arrival I shot a fine Senegal haartebeest, within two hours of camp, and this was the occasion when I lost my horse temporarily.
I had ridden out with the hunter, as was my custom, when we got on to the tracks of a fine solitary bull haartebeest. I dismounted to follow it on foot, leaving the horse with the hunter and my second rifle-bearer. I soon perceived him about six hundred yards away, browsing at the top of a little rise. The ground was very open and sloped up gradually towards him, so I had to be very cautious in stalking. Fortune favoured me this time, and I was able to get within comfortable shot, unperceived. The first bullet dropped him, mortally wounded through the lungs. My hunter came up with the horses. These he tied up while we were skinning the animal, having secured the end of my horse’s bridle to the branch of a mimosa tree.
We were busily engaged with our hunting knives when I suddenly looked up and saw my steed, having slipped his head-collar, trotting quietly down the hill. He gradually increased his pace to a gallop before we had time to stop him, until he was lost to view. I sent the rifle-bearer after in pursuit, thinking he would catch him grazing quietly at the nearest spot, where he could find some good grass. To cut a long story short, the native lost the horse’s tracks on some hard, rocky ground, returning about two hours later with the news. There was nothing for it but to walk back to camp and send out parties to search for my mount, if he had not returned, as I hoped, to the village. He was not at the camp, whither I returned ignominiously on foot, so I told the chief to send out search parties.
All available horses were collected to mount the tracking party, and when the men were assembled they were really rather a picturesque group. The Fulah on horseback looks quite his best, for these men have a good seat and are good horsemen, but, like most natives, they are bad horsemasters. There was a collection of some twenty men, armed with the national weapon, a spear, looking more as if they were going out to fight than to look for a lost horse.
It was not till long after nightfall that I heard a great stir outside, and, by the light of a bright moon, I could perceive mounted figures rapidly approaching across the plain. On they came at full gallop, brandishing their spears and uttering wild cries, until they arrived opposite my camp, when they drew rein so suddenly as to throw their steeds on to their haunches. By the triumphant cries I guessed the horse had been found, as, indeed, he had. I think he must have lost himself, as, when they discovered him, he was lying down, tired out, and apparently only too glad to be caught and led back to camp.
After a few days’ good sport, but still without news of the Douentza hunters, I determined to wait no longer, but to start for the elephant country with my local hunter at once. My so-called hunter was really not of much use, except as a guide to show me the road home at the end of the day, for his knowledge of the whereabouts of game was decidedly limited. He was also hardly an experienced tracker, but still, in this respect he might have been worse. In these circumstances I had to go and ascertain the place where the elephant were now to be found for myself, before I could decide where to pitch my camp. On one of my shooting trips I had come across some old spoor, leading down to the lake. I now went to this place with a view to making it the base of my tracking operations, intending to work backwards from there, in order to try to find the feeding-grounds of this herd. All this country is so thinly populated that for miles there are no habitations, and therefore I could not expect to get any information from natives.
That day I camped temporarily close to the place where these old tracks existed, near the brink of Niangaye. It was here that fortune smiled upon me for a change. That evening, just I was retiring for the night, I heard a low thundering noise, and noticed the peculiar strong odour which is found with elephants. I at once came to the conclusion that they must be coming down to bathe at the lake, and, moreover, could not be far off. Hastily seizing my rifle and throwing on some khaki clothes over my light-coloured pyjamas, I went out of my tent at the same instant that the local hunter came to tell me the elephant were indeed approaching the lake. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the animals sounded so near that I was afraid they would see the camp and take alarm, so I gave instructions for everyone to keep perfectly quiet and for the fires to be put out. It did, indeed, seem a strange thing that they should almost run into my camp the night I arrived there!
As I cautiously crept through the light bush, making a wide circuit to avoid giving them my wind, I shall never forget the splendid sight that broke on my view. In front of me was a herd of some forty elephants, drinking and bathing in the water of the lake. A bright moon shed her rays on the scene, making the water sparkle in a silvery sheen, while thousands of stars twinkled in the deep blue sky overhead. These splendid creatures appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and I waited under cover to feast my eyes on the sight for a few seconds. I could see them revelling in the luxury of their bath, douching themselves with water taken up in their trunks, splashing and disporting themselves in high frolic.
At this moment how I longed to be able to take a photograph of this remarkable scene, of which, though it is so vividly pictured on my memory, I have no other record!
I carefully singled out the best tuskers and waited my opportunity for a shot. To advance any further would have been fatal, for I was now on the edge of the scrub, and between me and the elephant was a narrow strip of open sandy beach, while they were some thirty yards further in the water, possibly altogether eighty yards from me.
Having drunk their fill, the great beasts proceeded to retreat leisurely homewards. Now would be my opportunity for a shot. Manœuvring to keep the best tuskers in view, I had no difficulty in shooting down one as he stopped, within twenty yards of me, while he reached at a branch with his great trunk. I hit him through the ear in the brain, and he fell on the spot. At the same instant I saw the other tusker close at hand, and gave him two bullets in rapid succession. He was hard hit, but did not fall. The whole occurrence had not taken more than a few seconds, but before I had time to reload the noise was deafening.
The huge herd, evidently more frightened than enraged, except perhaps for the wounded elephant, by the report of my rifle and the fall of their comrade, stampeded. They charged violently forward in all directions, trampling under foot all that came in their way, screaming and trumpeting as they went.
Some half-dozen came careering towards me; there was neither time nor space to evade them, and I must own my life seemed not worth a minute’s purchase just then. I thought I must inevitably be crushed to atoms under their massive feet; there seemed no chance of escape. In the hope of making myself as inconspicuous as possible, I flung myself flat on the ground, knowing all the time that though they might not notice me in their impetuous flight, those gigantic forms could hardly avoid running over my prostrate body.
By great good fortune something, I cannot for the life of me think what it was, made them swerve aside, passing within a few inches of me where I lay. I can hardly describe what a tiny, impotent creature one feels at such a moment. How powerless was I against one of these animals, should he by chance brush against me! I suppose that is about the narrowest escape I ever had, and an experience I am not anxious to repeat.
In an incredibly short space of time the whole herd had disappeared, the only sign of their recent visit being the clouds of dust, the trampled soil, and the dead elephant.
While this scene had been going on the hunter, my servant, and my following had bolted in all directions, alarmed, I suppose, lest the elephants should rush through the camp. When quiet had been restored the natives began to return. The excitement had been rather trying, and there was nothing further to be done that night. I gave orders for an early start in the morning in pursuit of the wounded elephant, while the men left in camp were to cut up the dead animal.
Accompanied by the hunter I started before daylight, following the tracks which were fairly visible. The wounded animal had kept company with the rest of the herd, for, within a mile or two of camp, all the separated tracks of the scattered elephants reunited. As the day dawned it became clear from the blood that he had been severely wounded. I thought that the first shot had hit him in the head, and the second a little below the heart as he turned broadside to me, but of this I could not be sure. We were able to follow the tracks at a gentle amble, so distinct were they. After proceeding thus for about seven miles, we arrived at the top of the rising ground and on to the plateau, which I have previously mentioned. The scrub now got thicker, but there was no difficulty in riding anywhere. Proceeding another five miles or so, we suddenly came across the wounded elephant standing under a small tree, sheltering from the sun, for it was getting hot and was now nine o’clock. There had been nothing to indicate that his footsteps were lagging. However, he must have got tired and been unable to keep up with the rest of the herd any longer.
The hunter was carrying my big rifle at this time, while I had the ·303 slung at my saddle. Seizing the ·450 from him I rapidly dismounted, while all this time the elephant appeared not to have noticed us, having its back turned in our direction. I skirted through the bush in order to get a shot at its brain, the animal being, I suppose, not more than thirty yards away. As I faced it it suddenly perceived me and lifted up its trunk as if to charge; I was then not twenty yards off. I fired under its uplifted trunk, when it swerved aside, the blood streaming from its mouth. A second shot penetrated its brain, and it fell to the ground quite dead.
The tusks of this elephant weighed fifty-two pounds each, while the other had ivory weighing just over forty-five pounds on either side. The ivory was not big, but I was given to understand that, for that country, the tusks were very fair, and that it was rare to get tusks weighing even sixty pounds; so under the circumstances I was fortunate.
It is a curious fact that the elephant of this region do not carry big ivory, although possibly the explanation is a simple one. There are no big trees in the country, which is an extraordinarily open one for elephant, consisting of sandy soil, light scrub and, in places, mimosa or other trees never more than thirty or forty feet high. Such is the district in which these animals are here found; besides, water is scarce. Away from the lake there is no water of any description for nearly forty miles.
Having found the line of retreat of the elephant, and knowing that it lay through a waterless tract of country, I decided to provision myself with water next day and attempt to come up with the herd again. Accordingly, the following morning very early, equipped with three days’ water supply, I set out in pursuit of the herd. It seemed evident that they must have a permanent feeding-ground, which could supply them with better provender than was obtainable in the country I had seen, and the chances were that if I could discover this feeding-ground I should also find the elephant. The tracks were plainly discernible nearly the whole way; only once did we lose them for a short time on some stony ground. Proceeding for about six miles beyond the place where I had found the wounded elephant, I noticed the country becoming much more wooded. We were now about eighteen miles from Lake Niangaye. Here the tracks of the elephant branched off in various directions, and it was without doubt their feeding-ground.
Picking up the biggest tracks we could see, we followed these for some distance through this wooded region. The ground here was quite rocky in many places, the sandy soil having disappeared. I had noticed that the ivory of my tusks was chipped, and it seemed that this must be the solution. Probably these elephant broke their tusks on the hard, rocky surface of their feeding-place. This wooded country appeared to extend for a considerable distance in a southerly direction.
Still following the tracks of this animal, which led to a place where he had evidently slept the previous night, we suddenly crossed some perfectly fresh tracks of another elephant. It was some hours later, when following this elephant, which I had wounded, that I came across a strange tribe of people who dwell in caves. The elephant’s tracks had led me to the foot of the Hombori Mountains, and it is here that these people live. They wear practically no clothing, and are very timid. Probably they had hardly seen a white man in those parts before. They are called the Habbés. They live chiefly by hunting round the shores of a lake called Kurorua, lying at the foot of the hills. I could not understand their language, and being short of provisions I had to curtail my stay in their country. This place is about forty miles from Lake Niangaye, and it seemed that the elephant used to drink at one or other of these lakes, according to circumstances, their feeding-ground being nearly half-way between the two.
The Habbés use bows and arrows, but also have old-fashioned guns, for which they manufacture their own powder out of saltpetre, found locally. Their bullets are more often made of small, sharp stones than of lead, but any rough missile will serve them.
Between the feeding-ground, which I discovered was called Tinsida, and Lake Kurorua, the country again becomes sandy and sparsely covered with vegetation. In all this sandy country the violent wind from the north-east, which I had experienced at Niangaye, blows. This wind raises sandstorms, which are not only most disagreeable, but are also very bad for the mechanism of a rifle should it be at all complicated. However careful one may be it is exceedingly difficult to avoid getting sand into the breech, with the result that a jam may occur. This actually happened to me at a very awkward moment, when hunting elephant. I had to abandon my ·450 and fire with my ·303. Fortunately for me the animal did not charge home, or I should probably have had some difficulty in stopping him with the light bullet of the small rifle. This was not the only occasion when I had a bad jam on account of the sand, and, later on, when crossing the Sahara, I found matters still worse, as the sandstorms were more frequent and more violent.