I.
Dr. Heinrich Barth, a native of Hamburg, and lecturer at the University of Berlin upon geography, had already had some experience of African travel, when, in 1849, he learned that Mr. James Richardson had planned an expedition from London to Central Africa, with the view of opening up the Soudan to European commerce, and substituting for the cruel slave-trade the legitimate enterprise of working the natural riches of the country. Dr. Barth obtained permission to accompany it, and with another volunteer, also a German, named Overweg, he repaired to head-quarters. The expedition was authorized and supported by the British Government. It met, therefore, with no preliminary difficulties; and we may begin our summary of its adventures at Tripoli, whence it started for the south on the 24th of March, 1850. Entering the Fezzan, it crossed the rocky and elevated plateau known as the Hammada, and through fertile wadys, or valley-basins, separated by precipitous ridges and broad wastes of sand, made its way to Mourzouk, the capital, situated in a sandy plain, where agricultural labour is possible only under the shelter of the date-palms. The town has no rich merchants, and is not so much a commercial depôt as a place of transit. For Dr. Barth and his companions it was, however, the first stage of their journey, and, indeed, their true point of departure. They made all haste, therefore, to leave it, and on the 13th of June entered upon their great undertaking. On the 25th, after an unavoidable delay, they quitted Tasua, crossed a considerable mass of sand-hills, and descended into a more agreeable district, where the heights were crowned by tamarisk trees, each height standing alone and isolated, like sentinels along the front of an army. This pleasant variety of scenery did not last long, however; they came again upon a soil as rocky as that of the Hammada, and met with an alternation of green valleys and sterile promontories, similar to that which they had explored before they reached Mourzouk.
They had reached the Wady Elaveu, a huge depression running north and south, when, at a distance of two hundred yards from their camp, they discovered a pond, forming a centre of life in that solitary region. Everybody hastened to enjoy a bath; a crowd of pintados and gangas hovered, with bright-coloured wings, above the laughing, frolicking company, waiting until they could take their places. While in this vicinity the travellers were disturbed by the conduct of some Towaregs, who had been engaged to conduct them to Selompih. Eventually, some slight change was made in the plans of the expedition, which, it was determined, should go on to Ghat, and remain there for six days; while the Towaregs, on their part, undertook to set out immediately afterwards for the Asben. Striking into the valley of Tanesof, they saw before them, revelling in the glow and gleam of the sunset, the Demons’ Mountain, or Mount Iniden; its perpendicular summit, adorned with towers and battlements, showed its white outlines vividly against a dark-blue sky. Westward, the horizon was bounded by a range of sand-hills, which the wind swept like a mighty besom, filling the air with sharp, gritty sand, and covering the entire surface of the valley.
On the following morning, their course carried them towards an enchanted mountain, which the wild legends of the natives have invested with picturesque interest. In spite of the warnings of the Towaregs, or perhaps because they had cautioned Dr. Barth not to risk his life in scaling that palace of the evil spirits, he resolved on attempting the sacrilegious enterprise. Unable to obtain guides, neither threats nor bribes prevailing over their superstitious terrors, he set out alone, in the belief that it had been formerly a place of religious worship, and that he should find there either sculptures or curious inscriptions. Unfortunately, he took with him no provisions but some biscuits and dates, and worse food cannot be imagined where there is a want of water. Crossing the sand-hills, he entered upon a bare and sterile plain, strewn with black pebbles, and studded with little mounds or hillocks of the same colour. Then he followed the bed of a torrent, its banks dotted with herbage, which offered an asylum to a couple of antelopes. Anxious for the safety of their young, the timid animals did not move at his approach. Affection inspired them with courage; they raised their heads boldly, and waved their tails. The enchanted palace seemed to recede as he advanced; finding himself in front of a dark deep ravine, he changed his course, only to find the passage barred by a precipice. Under the glare and glow of a burning sun he undauntedly pursued his way, and at last, spent with fatigue and exertion, reached the summit, which was only a few feet wide, and could boast neither of sculptures nor inscriptions.
From so lofty a watch-tower the prospect was necessarily extensive; but on surveying the plain below with anxious glance, Dr. Barth failed to detect any sign of the caravan. He was hungry and athirst; but his dates and biscuit were not eatable, and his supply of water was so limited that he durst not indulge himself with more than a mouthful. Feeble and spent as he was, to descend was imperative; he had no water left when he once more stood upon the plain. He dragged his weary limbs onward for some time, but at length was forced to own to himself that he did not know the direction he ought to take. He fired his pistol; but it elicited no reply. Wandering further and further from the route, he came upon a small grassy oasis, where some huts had been constructed of the branches of the tamarisk. With hopeful heart he hurried towards them; they were empty. Then in the distance he saw a long train of loaded camels ploughing their slow way through the sand; no, it was an illusion!—the illusion of fever. When night fell, he descried a fire gleaming redly against the darkened sky; it must be that of the caravan! Again he fired his pistol, and again there was no answer. Still the flame rose steadily towards heaven, and seemed to beckon him to a place where he should find rest and safety; but he was unable to profit by the signal. He fired again; no answering sound came forth from the silence of the mysterious night, and Dr. Barth, on his knees, entrusted his life to the Divine Mercy, and waited and watched for the dawn of day. The dawn came, as it comes to all God’s creatures, whether rich or poor, happy or wretched—comes with a blessing and a promise that are too often accepted without thought or emotion of gratitude; the dawn came, and still the calm of the desert remained unbroken. He loaded his pistol with a double charge, and the report, travelling from echo to echo, seemed loud enough to awaken the dead; it was heard by no human ear but his own. The sun, for whose beams he had prayed in the night-watches, rose in all its glory; the heat became intense; slowly the belated wayfarer crawled along the hot sand to seek the scanty shelter afforded by the leafless branches of the tamarisk. At noon there was scarcely shade enough to protect even his head, and in an agony of thirst, he opened a vein, drank a little of his own blood, and lost all consciousness. When he recovered his senses, the sun had set behind the mountain. He dragged himself a few paces from the tamarisk, and was examining the dreary level with sorrowful eyes, when he suddenly heard the voice of a camel. Never had he listened to music so delightful! For twenty-four hours had his sufferings been prolonged, and he was completely exhausted when rescued by one of the Towaregs of the caravan who had been sent in search of him.
The caravan spent six days in the double oasis of Ghat and Barakat, where crops of green millet, taking the place of barley and rye, indicated the neighbourhood of Nigritiá. The gardens were neatly fenced and carefully cultivated; turtle-doves and pigeons cooed among the branches; the clean, well-built houses were each provided with a terraced roof. Dr. Barth observed that the male inhabitants worked with industry and intelligence; as for the women, almost every one had a babe on her shoulders, and children swarmed by the wayside. As a whole, the population was far superior, physically and morally, to the mixed, hybrid race of the Fezzan.
They left the gracious and grateful oasis to plunge into the desert, a chaos of sandstone and granite rocks. On the 30th of July, they reached the junction-point of two ravines which formed a sort of “four-ways” among these confused masses. The wady which crossed their route was about sixty feet broad, but, at a short distance, narrowed suddenly into a defile between gigantic precipices upwards of a thousand feet in height—a defile which in the rainy season must be converted into a veritable cataract, to judge from an excavated basin at the mouth, which, when Dr. Barth and his companions passed, was full of fresh and limpid water. This “four-ways,” and these defiles, form the valley of Aguéri, long known to European geographers by the name of Amaïs.
The unpleasant intelligence now arrived that a powerful chief, named Sidi-Jalef-Sakertaf, projected an expedition against their peaceful caravan. Fortunately, it was only a question of the tribute which, by right of might, the Towaregs levy from every caravan that crosses the desert. Sidi-Jalef-Sakertaf was pacified; and the enthusiasts went on their way through sterile valleys and frowning defiles that would have daunted the courage of any but a votary of science and adventure.
They next arrived at Mount Tiska, which is six hundred feet in height, and surrounded by numerous lesser cones. It forms a kind of geological landmark; for the soil, hitherto so broken and irregular, thenceforward becomes smooth and uniform, while rising gradually, and the vast plain stretches far beyond the limit of vision without anything to interrupt its arid monotony. A two days’ journey brought our travellers to the well of Afelesselez. It is utterly wanting in shade; only a few clumps of stunted tamarisks grow on the sandy hillocks; but, desolate as it is and uninviting, the caravans resort to it eagerly, on account of its supply of fresh water.
Sand; stones; little ridges of quartzose limestone; granite mixed with red sandstone or white; a few mimosas, at intervals of one or two days’ march; abrupt pinnacles breaking the dull level of the sandstones; dry and bushless valleys—such were the features of the country through which Dr. Barth and his companions wearily plodded. Herds of buffaloes, however, are numerous; as is also, in the higher ground, the Ovis tragelaphis.
On the 16th of August the travellers, while descending a rocky crest covered with gravel, came in sight of Mount Asben. The Asben or A’ir is an immense oasis, which has some claim to be considered the Switzerland of the Desert. The route pursued by Dr. Barth on his way to Agadez traversed its most picturesque portion, where, almost every moment, the great mountain revealed itself, with its winding gorges, its fertile basins, and its lofty peaks.
Agadez is built on a plain, where it seems to lament that the day of its prosperity has passed. At one time it was the centre of a considerable commerce; but, since the close of the last century, its population has sunk from sixty thousand to seven or eight thousand souls. Most of its houses lie in ruins; the score of habitations which compose the palace are themselves in a deplorably dilapidated condition; of the seventy mosques which it previously boasted only two remain. The richer merchants shun the market of Agadez, which is now in the possession of the Touats, and supported by small traders, who do a little business in the purchase of millet when the price is low.
The day after his arrival, Barth repaired to the palace, and found that the buildings reserved for the sovereign were in tolerably good repair. He was introduced into a hall, from twelve to fifteen yards square, with a low daïs or platform, constructed of mats placed upon branches, which supported four massive columns of clay. Between one of these columns and the angle of the wall was seated Abd-el-Kadir, the Sultan, a vigorous and robust man of about fifty years old, whose grey robe and white scarf indicated that he did not belong to the race of the Towaregs. Though he had never heard of England, he received Dr. Barth very kindly, expressed his indignation at the treatment the caravans had undergone on the frontier of A’ir, and, by-and-by, sent him letters of recommendation to the governors of Kanó, Katséna, and Daoura. Dr. Barth remained for two months at Agadez, and collected a number of interesting details respecting its inhabitants and their mode of life. Thus, he describes a visit which he paid to one of its more opulent female inhabitants. She lived in a spacious and commodious house. When he called upon her, she was attired in a robe of silk and cotton, and adorned with a great number of silver jewels. Twenty persons composed her household; including six children, entirely naked, their bracelets and collars of silver excepted, and six or seven slaves. Her husband lived at Katséna, and from time to time came to see her; but it appears that she scarcely awaited his visits with the loving expectancy of a Penelope. No rigid seclusion of women is insisted upon at Agadez. During the Sultan’s absence, five or six young females presented themselves at Dr. Barth’s house. Two of them were rather handsome, with black hair falling down their shoulders in thick plaits, quick lively eyes, dark complexion, and a toilette not wanting in elegance; but they were so importunate for presents, that Dr. Barth, to escape their incessant petitions, shut himself up.
Barth rejoined his companions in the valley of Tin-Teggana. On the 12th of December they resumed their march, crossing a mountainous region, intersected by fertile valleys, in which the Egyptian balanite and indigo flourished, and finally emerging on the plain which forms the transition between the rocky soil of the desert and the fertile region of the Soudan—a sandy plain, the home of the giraffe and the antelope leucoryx. By degrees it became pleasantly green with brushwood; then the travellers caught sight of bands of ostriches, of numerous burrows, especially in the neighbourhood of the ant-hills, and those of the Ethiopian orycteropus, which have a circumference of three yards to three yards and a half, and are constructed with considerable regularity.
The wood grew thicker, the ground more broken, the ant-hills more numerous. As the travellers descended an abrupt decline of about one hundred feet, they found the character of the vegetation entirely changed. Melons were abundant; the dilon, a kind of laurel, dominated in the woods; then appeared an euphorbia, a somewhat rare tree in this part of Africa, in the poisonous juice of which the natives steep their arrows; parasites were frequent, but as yet lacked strength and pith; in a pool some cows were cooling themselves in the shades of the mimosas that fringed its banks; the thick herbage flourishing along the track impeded the progress of the camels, and against the horizon were visible the fertile undulating meads of Damerghue. Continuing their journey, they came upon a scattered village, where, for the first time, they saw that kind of architecture which, with some unimportant modifications, prevails throughout Central Africa. Entirely constructed of the stems of the sorghum and the Asclepias gigas, the huts of Nigritiá have nothing of the solidity of the houses of the A’ir, where the framework is formed of the branches and trunks of trees; but they are incontestably superior in prettiness and cleanliness. The traveller, in examining them, is impressed by their resemblance to the cabins of the aborigines of Latium, of which Vitruvius, amongst others, has furnished a description. More remarkable still are the millstones scattered round the huts; they consist of enormous panniers of reeds, placed on a scaffolding two feet from the ground, to protect them from the mice and termites.
On their arrival at Tagilet, the travellers separated. Mr. James Richardson undertook the road to Zindu, Overweg that to Marádi, and Barth to Kanó. Kúkáwa was named as the place, and about the 1st of April as the date, of their reassembling. Our business here is with Dr. Barth.
At Tasáwa he gained his first experience of a large town or village in Negroland proper; and it made a cheerful impression upon him, as manifesting everywhere the unmistakable marks of the comfortable, pleasant sort of life led by the natives. The courtyard, fenced with a hedge of tall reeds, excluded to a certain degree the gaze of the passer-by, without securing to the interior absolute secrecy. Then, near the entrance, were the cool and shady “runfá,” for the reception of travellers and the conduct of ordinary business; and the “gída,” partly consisting entirely of reed of the best wicker-work, partly built of clay in the lower parts, while the roof is constructed only of reeds,—but whatever the material employed, always warm and well adapted for domestic privacy; while the entire dwelling is shaded with spreading trees, and enlivened with groups of children, goats, fowls, pigeons, and, where a little wealth has been accumulated, a horse or a pack-ox.
Dr. Barth afterwards arrived at Katséna, a town of considerable size, with a population of eight thousand souls. It was formerly the residence of one of the richest and most celebrated princes in Nigritiá, though he paid a tribute of a hundred slaves to the King of Bornu as a sign of allegiance.
For two centuries, from 1600 to 1800, Katséna appears to have been the principal town in this part of the Soudan. Its social condition, developed by contact with the Arabs, then reached its highest degree of civilization; the language, rich in form and pure in pronunciation, and the polished and refined manners of the inhabitants, distinguished it from the other towns of the Háusa. But a complete and pitiful change took place when, in 1807, the Fulbi, raised to the highest pitch of fanaticism by the preaching of the reformer, Othmán dan Fódiye, succeeded in gaining possession of the town. The principal foreign merchants then emigrated to Kanó; the Asbenáwa also transferred their salt-market thither; and Katséna, notwithstanding its excellent position and greater salubrity, is now but of secondary importance as the seat of a governor. Mohammed Bello, who held that post at the time of Barth’s visit, either through capriciousness or suspicion, was very desirous of sending him on to Sokoto, the residence of the Emir. At first he employed persuasion, and when that failed, resorted to force, detaining Barth a prisoner for five days. However, the energy and perseverance of the traveller overcame every difficulty; and, having obtained his freedom, he directed his steps towards the celebrated commercial entrepôt of the Central Soudan.
Kanó, as he says, was an important station for him, not only from a scientific, but a financial point of view. After the extortions of the Towaregs, and his long delay in A’ir, he was entirely dependent upon the merchandise which had been forwarded thither in advance. On his arrival, he had to liquidate a debt which had risen to the large amount of 113,200 kurdi; and he was much disheartened by the low value set upon the wares which were his sole resource. Lodged in dark and uncomfortable quarters, destitute of money, beset by his numerous creditors, and treated with insolence by his servant, his position in the far-famed African city, which had so long occupied his thoughts and excited his imagination, was the reverse of agreeable. Anxiety acted upon his physical health, and a severe attack of fever reduced him to a state of great weakness. Yet the gloomy colours in which he naturally paints his own condition do not extend to his description of Kanó. That is bright, vivid, and graphic.
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.
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.”
Here the camels greatly excited the curiosity of the population; for they are rarely seen in A’damáwa, the climate of which these animals are unable to endure for any length of time. Still more vivid was the curiosity of the governor and his courtiers, when they saw Dr. Barth’s compass, chronometer, telescope, and the small print of his Prayer-Book. The Fulbi, he says, are intelligent and civilized, but prone to malice; they lack the good nature of the real blacks, from whom they differ more in their character than their colour.
At Bagma our travellers were struck by the size and shape of the huts, some of them being from forty to sixty feet long, about fifteen broad, and from ten to twelve feet high. They narrowed above to a ridge, and were thatched all over, no distinction being made between roof and wall. They are so spaciously constructed, in order to provide a shelter for the cattle against the inclemency of the weather. The river separates the village, which is inhabited entirely by Mohammedans, into two quarters. “The news of a marvellous novelty soon stirred up the whole place, and young and old, male and female, all gathered round our motley troop, and thronged about us in innocent mirth, and as we proceeded the people came running from the distant fields to see the wonder; but the wonder was not myself, but the camel, an animal which many of them had never seen, fifteen years having elapsed since one had passed along this road. The chorus of shrill voices, ‘Gelóba, gelóba!’ was led by two young wanton Púllo girls, slender as antelopes, and wearing nothing but a light apron of striped cotton round their loins, who, jumping about and laughing at the stupidity of these enormous animals, accompanied us for about two miles along the fertile plain. We passed a herd of about three hundred cattle. Gradually the country became covered with forest, with the exception of patches of cultivated ground.” Through scenery of this interesting character, the travellers pushed on to Mbtudi.
Next day their route laid through well-wooded and well-watered pastures, and immense fields of millet and ground-nuts, which here form as large a proportion of the food of the people as potatoes do in Europe. Dr. Barth liked them very much, especially if roasted, for nibbling after supper, or even as a substitute for breakfast on the road. From Segero the travellers proceeded to Sara’wu, and thence to Béhur. Forest and cultivated land alternated with one another to the margin of a little lake, lying in a belt of tall thick grass, where the unwieldy river-horse snorted loud. The sky was dark with clouds, and a storm was gathering, when the caravan entered the narrow streets of Salléri. That night it obtained but scanty accommodation, and everybody was glad to find the next morning bright and cheerful, so that the march could be resumed. Their course was directed towards the river Bénuwé. The neighbourhood of the water was first indicated by numerous high ant-hills, which, arranged in almost parallel lines, presented a sufficiently curious spectacle. To the north-west towered the insulated colossal mass of Mount Atlantika, forming a conspicuous and majestic object in the landscape. The savannas were now overgrown with tall rank grass, and broken by many considerable pools, lying in deep hollows; every year, in the rainy season, they are under water. Crossing these low levels with some difficulty, Dr. Barth arrived on the banks of the Bénuwé. A broad and noble stream, it flowed from east to west through an entirely open country. The banks were twenty to thirty feet high; while, immediately opposite to the traveller’s station, behind a pointed headland of sand, the river Fáro, which has its source on the eastern side of Mount Atlantika, came in with a bold sweep from the south-east, and poured its tributary waters into the Bénuwé. The Bénuwé, below the point of junction, bends slightly to the north, runs along the northern foot of Mount Bágelé, thence traverses the mountainous region of the Báchama and Zina to Hamárruwa and the industrious country of Korórofa, until it joins the great western river of the Kwára, or Niger.
The passage of the Bénuwé, which is here about eight hundred yards wide, was safely accomplished in the native canoes, nor did any mishap occur in the transit of the Fáro, which measures about six hundred yards. The current of the Fáro has a velocity of about five miles an hour; that of the Bénuwé does not exceed three miles and a half. By way of Mount Bágelé, and through the rich low lands of Ribágo, the travellers repaired to Yola, the capital of A’damáwa.