A journey to Central Africa

by Bayard Taylor

The American Flag—A Rencontre—Search for a House—The Austrian Consular Agent—Description of his Residence—The Garden—The Menagerie—Barbaric Pomp and State—Picturesque Character of the Society of Khartoum—Foundation and Growth of the City—Its Appearance—The Population—Unhealthiness of the Climate—Assembly of Ethiopian Chieftains—Visit of Two Shekhs—Dinner and Fireworks.

At the time of my arrival in Khartoum, there were not more than a dozen vessels in port, and the only one which would pass for respectable in Egypt was the Pasha’s dahabiyeh. I had but an open merchant-boat, yet my green tent and flag gave it quite a showy air, and I saw that it created some little sensation among the spectators. The people looked at the flag with astonishment, for the stars and stripes had never before been seen in Khartoum. At the earnest prayer of the raïs, who was afraid the boat would be forcibly impressed into the service of the Government, and was anxious to get back to his sick family in El Metemma, I left the flag flying until he was ready to leave. Old Bakhita, in her dumb, ignorant way, expressed great surprise and grief when she learned that Achmet and I were going to desert the vessel. She had an indefinite idea that we had become part and parcel of it, and would remain on board for the rest of our lives.

I took Achmet and started immediately in search of a house, as in those lands a traveller who wishes to be respectable, must take a residence on arriving at a city, even if he only intends to stay two or three days. Over the mud walls on either side of the lane leading up from the water, I could look into wildernesses of orange, date, fig, and pomegranate trees, oleanders in bloom and trailing vines. We entered a tolerable street, cleanly swept, and soon came to a coffee-house. Two or three persons were standing at the door, one of whom—a fat, contented-looking Turk—eyed Achmet sharply. The two looked at each other a moment in mutual doubt and astonishment, and then fell into each other’s arms. It was a Syrian merchant, whom Achmet had known in Cairo and Beyrout. “O master!” said he, his dark face radiant with delight, as he clasped the hand of the Syrian: “there never was such a lucky journey as this!”

The merchant, who had been two years in Khartoum, accompanied us in our search. We went first to the residence of the shekh of the quarter, who was not at home. Two small boys, the sons of one of a detachment of Egyptian physicians, who had recently arrived, received me. They complained bitterly of Soudân, and longed to get back again to Cairo. We then went to the Governor of the city, but he was absent in Kordofan. Finally, in wandering about the streets, we met a certain Ali Effendi, who took us to a house which would be vacant the next day. It was a large mud palace, containing an outer and inner divan, two sleeping-rooms, a kitchen, store-rooms, apartments for servants, and an inclosed court-yard and stables, all of which were to be had at one hundred piastres a month—an exorbitant price, as I afterwards learned. Before engaging it, I decided to ask the advice of the Austrian Consular Agent, Dr. Reitz, for whom I had letters from the English and Austrian Consuls in Cairo. He received me with true German cordiality, and would hear of nothing else but that I should immediately take possession of an unoccupied room in his house. Accordingly the same day of my arrival beheld me installed in luxurious quarters, with one of the most brave, generous and independent of men as my associate.

As the Consul’s residence was the type of a house of the best class in Khartoum, a description of it may give some idea of life in the place, under the most agreeable circumstances. The ground-plot was one hundred and thirty paces square, and surrounded by a high mud wall. Inside of this stood the dwelling, which was about half that length, and separated from it by a narrow garden and court-yard. Entering the court by the gate, a flight of steps conducted to the divan, or reception-room, in the second story. From the open ante-chamber one might look to the south over the gray wastes of Sennaar, or, if the sun was near his setting, see a reach in the White Nile, flashing like the point of an Arab spear. The divan had a cushioned seat around three sides, and matting on the floor, and was really a handsome room, although its walls were mud, covered with a thin coating of lime, and its roof palm-logs overlaid with coarse matting, on which rested a layer of mud a foot thick. In the second story were also the Consular Office and a sleeping-room. The basement contained the kitchen, store-rooms, and servants’ rooms. The remainder of the house was only one story in height, and had a balcony looking on the garden, and completely embowered in flowering vines. The only rooms were the dining-hall, with cushioned divans on each side and a drapery of the Austrian colors at the end, and my apartment, which overlooked a small garden-court, wherein two large ostriches paced up and down, and a company of wild geese and wild swine made continual discord. The court at the entrance communicated with the stables, which contained the Consul’s horses—a white steed, of the pure Arabian-blood of Nedjid, and the red stallion appropriated to my use, which was sent by the King of Dar-Fūr to Lattif Pasha, and presented by him to the Consul. A hejin, or trained dromedary, of unusual size, stood in the court, and a tame lioness was tied to a stake in the corner. She was a beautiful and powerful beast, and I never passed her without taking her head between my knees, or stroking her tawny hide until she leaned against me like a cat and licked my hand.

Passing through a side-door into the garden, we came upon a whole menagerie of animals. Under the long arbors, covered with luxuriant grape-vines, stood two surly hyenas, a wild ass from the mountains of the Atbara, and an Abyssinian mule. A tall marabout (a bird of the crane species, with a pouch-bill) stalked about the garden, occasionally bending a hinge in the middle of his long legs, and doubling them backwards, so that he used half of them for a seat. Adjoining the stable was a large sheep-yard, in which were gathered together gazelles, strange varieties of sheep and goats from the countries of the White Nile, a virgin-crane, and a large antilopus leucoryx, from Kordofan, with curved horns four feet in length. My favorite, however, was the leopard, which was a most playful and affectionate creature except at meal-time. He was not more than half grown, and had all the wiles of an intelligent kitten, climbing his post and springing upon me, or creeping up slyly and seizing my ankle in his mouth. The garden, which was watered by a well and string of buckets turned by an ox, had a rich variety of fruit-trees. The grape season was just over, though I had a few of the last bunches; figs were ripening from day to day, oranges and lemons were in fruit and flower, bananas blooming for another crop, and the pomegranate and kiskteh, or custard-apple, hung heavy on the branches. There was also a plantation of date-trees and sugar-cane, and a great number of ornamental shrubs.

In all these picturesque features of my residence in Khartoum, I fully realized that I had at last reached Central Africa. In our mode of life, also, there was a rich flavor of that barbaric pomp and state which one involuntarily associates with the name of Soudân. We arose at dawn, and at sunrise were in the saddle. Sometimes I mounted the red stallion, of the wild breed of Dar-Fūr, and sometimes one of the Consul’s tall and fleet dromedaries. Six dark attendants, in white and scarlet dresses, followed us on dromedaries and two grooms on foot ran before us, to clear a way through the streets. After passing through Khartoum, we frequently made long excursions up the banks of the two Niles, or out upon the boundless plain between them. In this way, I speedily became familiar with the city and its vicinity, and as, on our return, I always accompanied the Consul on all his visits to the various dignitaries, I had every opportunity of studying the peculiar life of the place, and gaining some idea of its governing principles. As the only city of Central Africa which has a regular communication with the Mediterranean (by which it occasionally receives a ray of light from the civilized world beyond), it has become a capital on a small scale, and its society is a curious compound of Christian, Turk and Barbarian. On the same day, I have had a whole sheep set before me, in the house of an Ethiopian Princess, who wore a ring in her nose; taken coffee and sherbet with the Pasha; and drank tea, prepared in the true English style, in the parlor of a European. When to these remarkable contrasts is added the motley character of its native population, embracing representatives from almost every tribe between Dar-Fūr and the Red Sea, between Egypt and the Negro kingdoms of the White Nile, it will readily be seen how rich a field of observation Khartoum offers to the traveller. Nevertheless, those who reside there, almost without exception, bestow upon the city and country all possible maledictions. Considered as a place of residence, other questions come into play, and they are perhaps not far wrong.

Khartoum is the most remarkable—I had almost said the only example of physical progress in Africa, in this century. Where, thirty years ago, there was not even a dwelling, unless it might be the miserable tokul, or straw hut of the Ethiopian Fellah, now stands a city of some thirty or forty thousand inhabitants, daily increasing in size and importance, and gradually drawing into its mart the commerce of the immense regions of Central Africa. Its foundation, I believe, is due to Ismaïl Pasha (son of Mohammed Ali), who, during his conquests of the kingdoms of Shendy and Sennaar, in the years 1821 and 1822, recognized the importance, in a military and commercial sense, of establishing a post at the confluence of the two Niles. Mohammed Bey Defterdar, who succeeded him, seconded the plan, and ere long it was determined to make Khartoum, on account of its central position, the capital of the Egyptian pashalik of Soudân. Standing at the mouth of the Blue Nile, which flows down from the gold and iron mountains of Abyssinia, and of the White Nile, the only avenue to a dozen Negro kingdoms, rich in ivory and gum, and being nearly equidistant from the conquered provinces of Sennaar, Kordofan, Shendy and Berber, it speedily outgrew the old Ethiopian cities, and drew to itself the greater part of their wealth and commercial activity. Now it is the metropolis of all the eastern part of Soudân, and the people speak of it in much the same style as the Egyptians speak of their beloved Cairo.

The town is larger, cleaner and better built than any of the cities of Upper Egypt, except perhaps Siout. It extends for about a mile along the bank of the Blue Nile, facing the north, and is three-quarters of a mile in its greatest breadth. The part next the river is mostly taken up with the gardens and dwellings of Beys and other government officers, and wealthy merchants. The gardens of the Pasha, of Moussa Bey, Musakar Bey and the Catholic Mission are all large and beautiful, and towards evening, when the north wind rises, shower the fragrance of their orange and mimosa blossoms over the whole town. The dwellings, which stand in them, cover a large space of ground, but are, for the most part, only one story in height, as the heavy summer rains would speedily beat down mud walls of greater height. The Pasha’s palace, which was built during the year previous to my visit, is of burnt brick, much of which was taken from the ancient Christian ruins of Abou-Haràss, on the Blue Nile. It is a quadrangular building, three hundred feet square, with a large open court in the centre. Its front formed one side of a square, which, when complete, will be surrounded by other offices of government. For Soudân, it is a building of some pretension, and the Pasha took great pride in exhibiting it. He told me that the Arab shekhs who visited him would not believe that it was the work of man alone. Allah must have helped him to raise such a wonderful structure. It has an inclosed arched corridor in front, in the Italian style, and a square tower over the entrance. At the time of my visit Abdallah Effendi was building a very handsome two-story house of burnt brick, and the Catholic priests intended erecting another, as soon as they should have established themselves permanently. Within a few months, large additions had been made to the bazaar, while the houses of the slaves, on the outskirts of the city, were constantly springing up like ant-hills.

There is no plan whatever in the disposition of the buildings. Each man surrounds his property with a mud wall, regardless of its location with respect to others, and in going from one point to another, one is obliged to make the most perplexing zigzags. I rarely ventured far on foot, as I soon became bewildered in the labyrinth of blank walls. When mounted on the Consul’s tallest dromedary, I looked down on the roofs of the native houses, and could take my bearings without difficulty. All the mysteries of the lower life of Khartoum were revealed to me, from such a lofty post. On each side I looked into pent yards where the miserable Arab and Negro families lazily basked in the sun during the day, or into the filthy nests where they crawled at night. The swarms of children which they bred in those dens sat naked in the dust, playing with vile yellow dogs, and sometimes a lean burden camel stood in the corner. The only furniture to be seen was a water-skin, a few pots and jars, a basket or two, and sometimes an angareb, or coarse wooden frame covered with a netting of ropes, and serving as seat and bed. Nearly half the population of the place are slaves, brought from the mountains above Fazogl, or from the land of the Dinkas, on the White Nile. One’s commiseration of these degraded races is almost overcome by his disgust with their appearance and habits, and I found even the waste plain that stretches towards Sennaar a relief after threading the lanes of the quarters where they live.