Through Timbuctu and across the great Sahara /

by A. H. W. Haywood

In the early morning, until the sun got too hot, I used to sit on the top of my awning with my shot-gun and rifle beside me, often getting a shot at a bird or crocodile. It was very pleasant in the fresh morning air, watching the changing scenery as we glided steadily past the banks. In the middle of the day I used to halt, near a village if possible, for lunch. This plan gave the crew a rest, and was welcomed by everyone as a chance of getting ashore. In the evening I also used to halt for dinner, but it was then often dark before we got ashore.

Sometimes, when the banks were favourable, we would tie a rope on to the mast and tow the barge, while the boatswain sat at the rudder, shouting out directions to the men on the tow-line. During the heat of the day, when sitting in my room, I found ample time for, and occupation in writing up my notes, which had not had as careful attention as I could have wished while I was hunting in the “Bend” of the Niger. I cannot say that I ever found the time hanging heavily on my hands, although, of course, there were moments when I should have been very glad of a companion.

At Timbuctu I had not been sorry to part with my servant Mamadu, and had got a far better “boy” in his place. My new factotum was called Musa. He was a Hausa from the Zaberma country, north-west of Northern Nigeria, who had for a time been employed by a French officer at Timbuctu, but was now out of work. Besides being a better and more trustworthy servant, he had some experience of the desert. He had been for two years the “boy” of Commandant Gadel, a distinguished French officer, who had travelled considerably in the Eastern Sahara. Musa was a hard-working and devoted “boy.” He had some fairly rough times while in the desert with me, and bore all the hardships and discomforts uncomplainingly. He was a fine type of native, standing a little over six feet, with a broad chest and sturdy arms, and, like most Hausas, was an excellent marcher, a most indispensable asset for my servant.

My crew were Bambaras, who are preferred by the French as boatmen on their Niger craft. They are very strong, and wonderfully enduring. My crew worked day and night for seven days continuously. By day the whole crew were on duty, while at night they worked in two reliefs, one half resting and the other half working. We seldom halted for more than three hours per diem—an hour at midday and two hours in the evening—so that they really had very little rest.

The Bambaras hold the Sonrhais in great contempt, forgetful of the day when the Sonrhay was a far more powerful individual than was the Bambara, and, indeed, held many of that race in slavery. But times had changed, and it was amusing to hear the scathing remarks of my boatswain as we passed a Sonrhay canoe or habitation. He used to say they were a miserable people, more like sheep than men, because they ate grass growing on the Niger banks! The Bambaras are rather proud and great spendthrifts. They like to live on the fat of the land, considering a man who is content with humbler diet as a miserable creature, not even worthy of pity.

The first few miles of the journey after leaving Kabara lay through a shallow stream, which was the waterway connecting Kabara with the Niger on the east. This stream was so shallow that we had considerable difficulty in moving at all. The barge only drew about nine inches of water, but in spite of this she kept on sticking on the mud. When this happened the crew had to get out and push until we got clear. Progress was very slow. Finally, about half a mile before reaching the Niger, there was practically no water at all. Our efforts to move the barge were fruitless, and unless we got help we seemed likely to stick for months, until the water rose. Accordingly, I sent some of the crew to seek out the nearest village and bring assistance. It took some fifty men to get us out of our difficulties, and then it was only effected by digging a trench under the barge, through which she was hauled by the triumphant, yelling mob of natives.

Owing to the delay caused by the shallow water our progress that day was not great. In twelve hours we had only covered eight miles. But during the remainder of the voyage we averaged thirty-five miles in the twenty-four hours. As this included a halt of about three hours daily, and only half the crew were at work during the night, the result was not bad.

The whole way down the river from Kabara to Gao the banks are populated by Sonrhais. I must own to rather agreeing with my friend the Bambara boatswain. These people are certainly very wretched specimens of humanity. The Sonrhais on this portion of the Niger seem to have degenerated more than those whom I had hitherto met. They are absolutely poverty-stricken, and apparently make no effort to ameliorate their position. They possess practically no cattle or sheep, but live on rotting fish and grass. The former is in great evidence all down the Niger. There are tanks where the fish are caught, and drying-places close by. In the latter the fish are left to rot, when they are taken away and eaten. The stench from these places is truly disgusting. Even the Bambaras used to turn up their noses at it.

The grass they eat is of two kinds—the “borgou,” with which I was now so familiar, and which is eaten raw or in a kind of soup, and “cram-cram.” “Cram-cram” is a grass peculiar to desert vegetation; it is intensely prickly, and it is the seed of this that is boiled and eaten by the Sonrhais of this locality. “Cram-cram” is a very nourishing seed, I was given to understand. The flocks of the desert are very partial to this grass, as are also camels. It has the annoying habit of sticking to one’s legs as one walks through it, just as burrs do in England. “Cram-cram” is worse, however, than a burr, because it breaks up into countless little prickles, each one so fine that it can hardly be seen. These prickles have points as sharp as a needle, which stick into the fingers of the hapless victim, and are hard to extract because they are so hard to locate. I once saw a French officer who had a little dog which was suffering from “cram-cram.” The poor little creature was in tortures, and unable to withdraw these miniature daggers from his toes. It took some time and patience on our part before we could relieve him of all of them.

In some places we would pass a temporary village of Fulanis, who had come down to the water-side to allow their cattle to graze on the luxuriant “borgou.” Occasionally, also, we would see an encampment of Tuaregs, who had selected this spot as favourable for their flocks of sheep and goats. These people generally stay on the higher ground to the north of the river, but, at this season, when the grass is scorched by the hot sun and grazing is poor for their animals, they approach the Niger in order to find pasturage for their flocks.