A journey to Central Africa

by Bayard Taylor

I Lose my Sunshine, and Regain it—Nubian Scenery—Derr—The Temple of Amada—Mysterious Rappings—Familiar Scenes—Halt at Korosko—Escape from Shipwreck—The Temple of Sebooa—Chasing other Boats—Temple of Djerf Hossayn—A Backsheesh Experiment—Kalabshee—Temple of Dabôd—We reach the Egyptian Frontier.

The distressing coldness of the temperature the night before reaching Wadi Halfa, affected me more painfully than all the roastings I had endured in Soudân. My nose after losing six coats of skin, became so hard and coppery, that like Anthony Van Corlear’s, the reflected rays from it might have pierced even the tough skin of a crocodile. My frame was so steeped in heat, that had our fuel fallen short, I might have “drawn” my tea, by hugging the kettle in my arms. I had been so bathed and rolled in light, the sun had so constantly, with each succeeding day, showered upon me his burning baptism, that I came to regard myself as one of his special representatives, and to fancy that, wherever I went, there was a sort of nimbus or radiation around me. But those few drops of rain, among the stony mountains of the Batn El-Hadjar, quenched at once the glow of my outer surface, and the cold winds which followed, never ceased blowing till they extinguished even the central fires. I was like an incipient comet, snuffed out of existence and made satellite to some frozen planet. My frame was racked with pains, which turned into misery the refreshing indolence of the Nile. I had no medicines, but put my philosophy into practice: the climate of Nubia, I said, has given me this infliction, therefore the country must supply the remedy. So I sent the raïs ashore in search of it. He came back with a cup of oil which a shining daughter of the land was about bestowing upon her crispy tresses, and I drank it with a heroic faith in the efficacy of my theory. I was not disappointed, and on the third day sat once more in the sun, in the bow of my boat, trying to regain the effluence I had lost.

The scenery of the Nile below Abou-Simbel is very beautiful. The mountains recede again from the bank, and show themselves occasionally in picturesque peaks. The shores are low and rich and the groves of date-trees most luxuriant. The weather was delightfully calm and warm, and the Nile, though swift, ran smooth and shining as the oil of his own castor bean-fields. During the sweet, quiet hour before and after sunset, we floated down through the lovely region about Bostàn and Teshka. Three tall peaks of dark-brown rock rose inland, beyond the groves of the beautiful Ibreemee palm, whose leaves, longer and more slender than those of the Egyptian date-tree, are gracefully parted at the sides—half of them shooting upward in a plumy tuft, while the other half droop around the tall shaft of the tree. The boys worked during the second night with unabated force. I awoke as the moon was rising through black clouds, and found the lofty crags of Ibreem overhanging us. We swept silently under the base of the heights, which in the indistinct light, appeared to rise four or five hundred feet above us. By sunrise, the date-groves of Derr, the capital of the Nuba country, were in sight, and we were soon moored beside the beach in front of the town. Derr stretches for some distance along the shore, and presents an agreeable front to the river. A merchant, from a boat near ours, brought me two small loaves of delicious Egyptian bread. He had been in Soudân, and knew how such bread would relish, after the black manufacture of that country.

An hour afterwards my boat ran to the eastern bank, to allow me to visit the little temple of Amada. This temple stands on a slight rise in the sands, which surround and entirely overwhelm it. It consists only of a low portico, supported by eight pillars, a narrow corridor and the usual three chambers—all of very small dimensions. The sculptures on the walls are remarkable for the excellent preservation of their colors. The early Christians, who used this temple for their worship, broke holes in the roof, which admit sufficient light for the examination of the interior. Without knowing any thing of the hieroglyphic inscriptions on the temple, I should judge that it was erected by some private person or persons. The figures making the offerings have not the usual symbols of royalty, and the objects they present consist principally of the fruits of the earth, which are heaped upon a table placed before the divinity. The coloring of the fruit is quite rich and glowing, and there are other objects which appear to be cakes or pastry. While I was examining the central chamber I heard a sound as of some one sharply striking one of the outside pillars with a stick. It was repeated three times with an interval between, and was so clear and distinct that I imagined it to be Achmet, following me. I called, but on receiving no answer, went out, and was not a little surprised to find no person there or within sight. The temple stands at a considerable distance from any dwelling, and there is no place in the smooth sands on all sides of it where a man could hide. When I mentioned this circumstance, on returning to the boat, Achmet and the raïs immediately declared it to be the work of a djin, or afrite, who frequently are heard among the ruins, and were greatly shocked when I refused to accept this explanation. I record the circumstance to show that even in the heart of Nubia there are mysterious rappings.

Beyond Derr I entered the mountain region of granite, sandstone and porphyry, which extends all the way to Assouan. As I approached Korosko, which is only about twelve miles further, the south-wind increased till it became a genuine khamseen, almost blotting out the landscape with the clouds of sand which it whirled from the recesses of the Biban. We were obliged to creep along under the bank till we reached Korosko, where we ran up to the same old landing-place at which I had stopped in December. The bank was eight feet higher than then, the river having fallen that much in the mean time. There was the same house, open on the river-side, the same old Turk sitting within, the dark sycamores shading the bank, the dusty terrace with the familiar palms tossing their leaves against the wind, the water-mill, the white minaret at the foot of the mountain, and, lastly, the bold, peaked ridge of Djebel Korosko behind. There was the very spot where my tent had stood, and where I first mounted a dromedary for the long march through the Nubian Desert. There was also the corner by which I turned into the mountain-pass, and took leave of the Nile. I recognized all these points with a grateful feeling that my long wandering in Central Africa was over, without a single untoward incident to mar my recollection of it. I had my pipe and carpet brought under the shade of the sycamore, while Achmet went up to the Governor’s house, with the raïs and one of the boys. Before long, the latter appeared with his shirt full of pigeons (for I had not forgotten the delicious roast pigeons we took from Korosko into the Desert), then the raïs with my sack of charcoal, the Governor having only used about one-third of it during my absence, and finally the Governor himself. Moussa Effendi shook me cordially by the hand and welcomed me many times, thanking God that I had returned in safety. We sat on my carpet, talked for an hour about my journey, took coffee, and I then left the worthy man and his wretched village, more delighted at having seen them again than I can well express.

The same evening, the wind veered to the north-west, nearly at right-angles to our course, and just at dusk, as, the raïs and Ali were rowing vigorously to keep the boat on the western side of the river (the other being full of dangerous reefs), the rope which held the long oar in its place broke, and Ali tumbled heels over head into the wooden cooking bowl of the raïs. The wind carried us rapidly towards the opposite shore, and while Ali and Lalee were trying to fix the oar in its place, we heard the water roaring over the rocks. “O Prophet!” “O Apostle!” “Prophet of God, help us!” were the exclamations of the raïs, but little black ’Med Roomee, who sat at the helm, like Charlemagne on a similar occasion, said nothing. He looked keenly through the gloom for the reef, and at last discerned it in time for the boat to be sculled around with the remaining oar, and brought to land just above the dangerous point. A shipwreck in the Nile is a more serious matter than one would imagine, who has never seen the river during a strong wind. Its waves run as roughly and roar as loudly as those of a small sea.

We reached Sebooa during the night, and I walked up to the temple as soon as I rose. Early as it was, several Arabs descried me from a distance, and followed. The temple, which is small and uninteresting, is almost buried under drifts from the Desert, which completely fill its interior chambers. Only the portico and court, with three pillars on each side, to which colossal caryatides are attached, remain visible. Before the pylon there is an avenue of lion-headed sphinxes, six of which, and a colossal statue of sandstone, raise their heads above the sand. I was followed to the vessel by the men, who importuned me for backsheesh. When I demanded what reason they had for expecting it, they answered that all strangers who go there give it to them. This was reason enough for them; as they knew not why it was given, so they knew not why it should be refused. The crowd of travellers during the winter had completely spoiled the Barabras. I said to the men: “You have done nothing for me; you are beggars,”—but instead of feeling the term a reproach, they answered: “You are right—we are beggars.” With such people one can do nothing.

For the next two days we lagged along, against a head-wind. My two boys did the work of two men, and I stimulated them with presents of mutton and tobacco. Three English boats (the last of the season), left Wadi-Halfa three days before me, and by inquiring at the village, I found I was fast gaining on them. I began to feel some curiosity concerning the world’s doings during the winter, and as these Englishmen were at least three months in advance of the point where I left off, they became important objects to me, and the chase of them grew exciting. I prepared for my encounter with them and other belated travellers on the Nile, by making an American flag out of some stuff which I had bought for that purpose in Dongola. The blue and white were English muslin, and the red the woollen fabric of Barbary, but they harmonized well, and my flag, though I say it, was one of the handsomest on the river.

The temple of Djerf Hossayn is excavated in the rock, near the summit of a hill behind the village. A rough path, over heaps of stones, which abound with fragments of pottery, denoting the existence of an ancient town, leads up to it. When I reached the platform in front of the entrance I had a convoy of more than a dozen persons, mostly stout, able-bodied men. I determined to try an experiment, and so told them at the start to go back, for they would get nothing; but they were not to be shaken off. I avoided with the greatest care and patience all their endeavors to place me under obligations to them; for these cunning Barabras are most assiduous in their efforts to render some slight service. If it is only kicking a stone out of your path, it constitutes a claim for backsheesh, and they represent their case in such a way that it would be the most glaring ingratitude on your part not to give it.

On entering the temple, the vast square pillars of the hall, with the colossal figures attached to them, produce a striking impression. The effect of these pillars, which fill nearly half the space of the hall itself, is to increase its apparent dimensions, so that the temple, at the first glance, seems to be on a grander scale than is really the case. I had some curiosity regarding this place, from the enthusiastic description of Warburton, and the disparaging remarks of Wilkinson. After seeing it, I find them both correct, in a great measure. The colossal statues of the grand hall are truly, as the latter observes, clumsy and badly executed, and the sculptures on the walls are unworthy the age of Remeses; but it is also true that their size, and the bulk of the six pillars, which are lofty enough to be symmetrical, would have a fine effect when seen at night, by the light of torches, as Warburton saw them. All the chambers have suffered from smoke and bats, and the bigotry of the old Christians. The walls are so black that it is difficult to trace out the figures upon them. This, however, rather heightens the impression of a grand, though uncouth and barbarous art, which the temple suggests. I made but a brief visit, and marched down the hill with the population of Djerf Hossayn in my train. The boat had gone ahead, as the only approach to the shore was a mile or two beyond, but they insisted on following me. I ordered them to leave, fearing lest the very fact of their walking so far in the hot sun would induce me to break my resolution. It would have been, indeed, a satisfaction to give ten piastres and be freed from them, and I took no little credit to myself for persisting in refusing them. They all dropped off at last, except two, who came almost to the spot where the boat was moored, and only turned back because I was in advance and ordered the raïs to move on as soon as I got on board. I should like to know their opinion of me. I have no doubt the people considered me the most eccentric Frank who ever came among them.