Through Timbuctu and across the great Sahara /

by A. H. W. Haywood

A few weeks later I met a French naval officer, the Superintendent of the Niger Surveys, who had just arrived from France, and had come by river all the way from Bamako, descending the rapids en route. He, like Hourst, came down in an ordinary “dug-out” canoe, and, although successful, he informed me it was a thrilling experience and one he would not lightly undertake again. The smallest mistake or hesitation on the part of the steersman must result in the frail craft being inevitably dashed against the rocks, and there would be no hope for the occupants.

In the early days of French exploration an explorer called Maje had penetrated into the Soudan as far as Koulikoro. Just outside that village he was attacked by the inhabitants and killed on the hill which is to be seen at the south end of the place. Maje’s death was not avenged for some time, but his name has since been perpetuated in one of the stern-wheeler boats in use on the Niger; she was lying in the river when I was at Koulikoro, but useless till the next rainy season owing to the scarcity of water at that time.

That afternoon I walked out to Koulikoro Bara, two miles off, to call on the officers of the local garrison. A broad road leads to the village, and the officers’ quarters are perched on the top of a hill above it. The road had a soft, sandy surface and seemed to be a favourite resort for riders in the evening. When I passed some half-dozen natives were racing on their gaily ornamented steeds. Excitement among the spectators was running at a high pitch as the cavaliers came tearing furiously down the road, urging their mounts forward with wild cries and much spurring. The winner at the end of the course, shouting triumphantly at his victory, drew rein so suddenly as to throw his horse on to its haunches, to the imminent danger of those following, who narrowly escaped a collision.

I was shown round the barracks by a young artillery officer, who was temporarily in charge of the station, and he very kindly offered to lend me a horse for the remainder of my stay at Koulikoro. But I was unable to make much use of his offer, for when I returned to the hotel I found a message to say that the steam-launch would leave the following day.

The next morning I rose early as I had arranged to pay a visit to the horse-breeding establishment which was about three miles away. I was met by Captain de Franco, who took great pains to show me the well-managed stables under his care. Very few mares are kept, but the stallions of the establishment are sent out to districts where a good class of mare is known to exist, and the owners of the mares are bound to sell the progeny to Government should they be required so to do. The reason for this is that it was found many of the Government mares were infected with the trypnazome produced by the tsetse-fly-bite. Some of them died, while others dropped dead foals, and so it was considered to be a wiser plan to let the risk of these accidents be borne by the native rather than by Government. Captain de Franco informed me that they had treated several cases of this disease successfully with arsenic, but although the victim’s life was saved the horse was never as strong as he had originally been.

The animals were certainly some of the finest I had seen in the Western Soudan. Most of them came from the districts of Nioro and Sokolo, on the left bank of the Niger. They averaged a little over 15 hands, some showing distinct signs of Arab blood. We walked over to the riding-school, where the young horses were being exercised. The riders were native lads, most of whom were expert horsemen before they came to the establishment, I was told. The difficulty is not to teach them to ride, but to teach them to be good horsemasters. They have been used to the brutal native methods, using the cruel native bit, and regarding the horse as a machine incapable of feeling pain or fatigue. Once these ideas have been driven out of their heads they become very useful members of the stables.

The captain was very proud of his house, which he had built himself with materials specially ordered from France. It was certainly very comfortable and furnished with great taste.

I hurried back to the hotel to find my servant sending the loads down to the wharf. In the last two days I had rearranged my kit, and repacked the “chop-boxes,” and had reduced my possessions to twelve carriers’ loads. I now went to the Navigation Offices, where I purchased my ticket for Niafounké. I was introduced to the brigadier de vaisseaux, the European skipper of the little launch, with whom I had to share a cabin. Accommodation on the boat was limited. There was a tiny cabin with two berths “forard,” while other passengers had to pitch their camp beds, if they could find room, in the stern of the vessel. Some of the baggage was stowed in the hold, but the heavier articles were in the lighter which we were to tow. My fellow-passengers were two European non-commissioned officers. One of them was proceeding to the garrison town of Bobo-Djilassu, while the other was bound for Timbuctu. I must say I pitied these two men; they were so cramped in the narrow space allowed them that the discomfort of a journey down-river lasting several days must have been great. To add to the general unpleasantness there was only a thin awning to protect their heads from the fierce sun, so that they could never discard their sun-helmets during the day.

In the bows of the steam-launch there was a small space available, with just room for a couple of chairs, and in the centre of this space was the wheel, where the steersman took up his position. Our crew were mostly Bambaras, three of whom were river pilots. A special knowledge of the river is necessary for the man at the wheel, as the Niger is full of sandbanks, rocks and other dangers to navigators. Our vessel was the “Réné Caillé,” called after the famous French explorer of that name, who in the years 1827 and 1828 came across the Sahara from Morocco to Timbuctu, eventually returning to Europe by the same route. These boats are known to the French as vedettes, while the stern-wheelers are called monoroues; the latter appears to be a misnomer, for these boats have two wheels, and not a single one.

In the lighter towed behind us, besides the baggage, there was a collection of natives. Some of these were soldiers with their wives and families, and a very happy party they seemed to be as they sat on packing-cases at the bottom of the boat, chattering and laughing while we waited for the brigadier to come aboard. All formalities were at length completed, and the Director of Navigation came out of his office with our skipper to bid me good-bye.