The source of the Blue Nile

by Arthur J. Hayes

On the morning of January 12, we fulfilled our promise to the priest of Tschenkar and went to see the church. It has the reputation of being an exceptionally holy place, because the Dervishes made several attempts to burn it down when they raided the village during their incursion after the battle of Gallabat, and their endeavour failed. I cannot tell how the roof fared, for it was made of the ordinary thatch used in Abyssinia when I saw it and looked very inflammable. But it was hardly necessary to attribute the preservation of the rest of the fabric to a miracle. In many cases the entire structure consists of a timber framework with a covering of thatch, and I never heard that these buildings possessed the immunity of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. But the church at Tschenkar is built in part of hard baked mud bricks and in part of stone, and the doorways are made of an extremely tough wood which is found in the country. This had also furnished the beams within the building. Under these circumstances the only marvel seems to be that the Dervishes repeated their attempt to kindle the materials.

The church is round and stands in a circular enclosure, according to the custom in Abyssinia. The wall of the churchyard is of stone, and there are four entrances, facing north, south, east, and west. Cypresses—which I did not observe in other places—were growing in the enclosure, which, as usual, is just a small grassy expanse. No tombstones or other monuments to the dead are seen in it. The church also has four doors and is divided into two parts. These do not closely correspond to nave and chancel; for the sanctum sanctorum of an Abyssinian place of worship is walled in, and makes a third enclosure. Moreover, it does not contain an altar but a representation of the Jewish Ark of the Covenant, which is called a tabot. I shall have occasion to allude to this custom and its origin in a later chapter.

The priest showed us round the building. The walls are decorated with the usual extraordinary “sacred subjects,” treated in the manner which convention strictly prescribes. St. George and the Dragon and the Virgin Mary are almost invariably depicted, and I was fortunate enough to obtain some clear photographs in the church at Korata,[60] which exemplify the singular devotional art of the Habashes. At Tschenkar there were some rude carvings of cherubim and designs of the Virgin drawn with burnt wood on the doorways. We were not admitted to the sanctum sanctorum.

Outside I obtained a photograph of the theological class, which was composed of one teacher and four pupils. Their library consisted of a single book. I could not, of course, decipher the text, but the volume had the appearance of a very dirty and greasy manuscript missal. Probably it was a copy of the Scriptures, in the Gheez language. There was a quaint thatched belfry in a tree, which looked like a primitive bee-hive or an old bird’s-nest.

We had ordered that the baggage donkeys should be loaded and take the road while we were at the church. But we found that confusion always arose if no European was present at the start, and on this occasion, when we had spent some forty minutes with the priest, and then made our way to the track which we were to follow, we beheld no trace of the expedition. When the train did draw in sight we found that one part had been separated from the other, and the two divisions were approaching from opposite sides. It was only a slight contretemps, but we lost an hour by it on a day when we had a long march before us. Matters were righted and we moved ahead.

Dupuis and I were bringing up the rear. At half-past eleven we found that the whole expedition had halted on the bank of the river Magetsch, and one of the guides was insisting that we must camp there. He seemed to have no reason for the choice except that there was water in the stream and that the place which we purposed to reach, called Ambo, was, in his opinion, too far off. All the Habashes were of the same mind as the guide, but we did not take their view, and set to work to cross the river.

Here—about a mile and a half from the lake—the current was some twenty feet wide. It was clear and shallow, running over a shingly bed in a ravine. We forded it without difficulty, and moved on towards the camping-ground which we had selected. We arrived at the place shortly after two o’clock.

Our route crossed the two effluents of the lesser Gumara River not far below Wansage. A concise and interesting account of the geology and botany of the river-valley at that place has been given by Dr. Stecker.[61] This morning while we were on the road we met the “Sultan of Delgi.” The “Sultan,” notwithstanding his title, is a subordinate official, the tax-collector of a district. It was this man whose “Deputy” had met us when we arrived on the plateau and raised difficulties. We found the “Sultan” a very affable old man. He shook hands with us, asked if matters went well with the expedition, and if we were in need of anything. This was the more satisfactory as he was then returning from a visit to the feudal lord of the district, Ras Gouksha.

The village of Ambo was destroyed by the Dervishes, and had not been rebuilt. The site of it is on a beautiful little bay of the lake, which at one part has a sandy beach that shelves into the clear water and at another is bordered by a thick fringe of reeds. Snipe swarm in these. There was no cultivated ground at this spot, and no timber or “scrub.” Tall grass was growing everywhere, and I have no doubt that the soil is extremely fertile.

The tents were pitched, and after lunch we took out our guns to replenish the larder. We made a bag of some half-dozen snipe, and saw an abundance of geese—but they are not very good eating—herons, and other large and small water-fowl. On the way back to camp we put up a flock of crown crane and could have brought down some of them. They are excellent at table; but it seemed a scandal to kill such fine fellows, and we did not shoot. These are noble-looking birds.