Through Timbuctu and across the great Sahara /

by A. H. W. Haywood

I had despatched my horse by a more circuitous land route, so he would be several days later than I in arriving at Timbuctu, if, indeed, he ever arrived. He had been consigned to the care of the headman of the village, and was to be passed on from one to the other en route. In any case, the little beast had done me good service, and I had certainly had a good three pounds’ worth of value from him!

On the 7th of April we entered the Niger, at a point some miles below the junction of its two branches, Issa-Ber and Bara-Issa. A short while after stopping for breakfast that morning we passed a barge, flying the French colours. The occupants were the officer in charge of the ostrich farm at Niafounké and his wife. They had been down the river for nearly three hundred miles to decide on a more suitable site for the farm, and were now on their way back to Niafounké. The lady was certainly the only European representative of her sex on that side of Koulikoro, and was regarded with great astonishment by many of the natives, who naturally had never seen a white woman before.

Soon after midday we sighted a small building on the river banks, built at the point where a big backwater of the Niger quits the main stream. This was Korioumé, and is used as the port of Timbuctu instead of Kabara during the driest months of the year, as vessels are then unable to get nearer to Timbuctu, owing to the lack of water. Kabara lies about five and a half miles further on, being approached by a canal. This canal is being enlarged to allow the passage of larger craft than can use it at present.

Kabara consists of a collection of mud huts, forming the dwellings of the transport officials and the native population. Alongside the quay lie a variety of river craft, barges, and steel as well as wooden canoes. It is not an imposing-looking spot, but is important as the head-quarters of the Navigation Service for the section Kabara to Ansongo, a distance of nearly four hundred miles.

I landed and presented myself at the Transport Office, where I was provided with donkeys to carry my kit to Timbuctu, and was informed that the Commandant had very thoughtfully sent a horse for me to ride up to the town. All baggage is conveyed by donkeys to Timbuctu, and there are a number of men in the town who make their living by letting out donkeys for this purpose. The country immediately assumes the appearance of a desert on leaving Kabara. There is a wide track, worn by thousands of animals’ feet, leading through the soft sand across the five miles which separate Timbuctu from her port. Beyond a few scattered gum trees, mimosa, and a little coarse grass, there is nothing but sand on all sides.

A short distance to the right of the road in the desert, and about half-way to Timbuctu, is a monument erected to Commandant Obb, the first Frenchman to try to enter Timbuctu. He had only a small following of twenty, and perished with all his gallant men in the attempt. The monument is placed at the spot where he fell. The town was at that time in the hands of the Tuaregs, who swarmed in hundreds round his small band until they had annihilated it. Several subsequent attempts were made to capture the town before they finally succeeded. Curiously enough, the capture of Timbuctu was eventually made by a mere handful of men under a French naval lieutenant, and was effected by surprise. Since then, although it has several times been threatened by raiding bands of Tuaregs, it has never been out of the possession of the French.

On ascending a slight rise in the road, Timbuctu, the Mysterious City, suddenly comes into view.

As I saw it the scene spread out before me was a strange one. In a slight depression was the town itself, a conglomeration of sandy, brown buildings, with flat roofs, while here and there a minaret obtruded its pointed head. Most prominent of all were three mosques, one at the east, another at the centre, and the third at the west of the town. At the extreme western corner were three solitary palm trees, behind which the sun was dying, and as its last rays caught the sombre-hued houses they were lit up and stood out more clearly from the surrounding desert which they so closely resembled.

There was something rather fascinating about this quaint desert city, so solemn and subdued did it appear to be. But on the whole my feelings were those of disappointment, for I had expected a far more imposing-looking place. I had pictured to myself a town of fine Moorish buildings, minaretted palaces, and the bright appearance of an Oriental city. It had seemed to me that the influence of the Moorish occupation must be strongly impressed on Timbuctu, but this is not so to any marked extent. In point of fact, except for the three mosques, the general appearance of the town was very much like many others I had seen on my journey through Western Soudan—anyhow, in the distance. Timbuctu’s chief difference lies rather in her surroundings than in her individuality. She is alone in the desert. The desert surrounds her on all sides. The Niger is no longer a feature of the scenery; all her water is obtained from wells. As a matter of fact, sometimes, when the floods have been heavier than usual, a small backwater occasionally runs up from Kabara to Timbuctu, but this soon disappears as the floods subside, and to see water above ground is a rare sight.