The Arab women of this place are really beautiful; they wear their hair differently from their countrywomen elsewhere: the fashion of it is such, that at a distance it might be mistaken for a helmet,—a large braid on the crown having some semblance to a crest, and the side tresses being neatly plaited and frizzled out at the ends. There are also many women of Bornou among them, who imitate the same style.
Guinea fowls abound in this part of the country: I went out after we halted, and shot five of them, besides a wild duck and a quail. Mohamoud El Wordee, one of two Fezzanee merchants, to whom we were particularly recommended by the sheikh of Bornou, and who had always appeared to me to be a man of strong natural sense, was thrown into a sad fright by losing a charm or amulet off his horse’s neck, with a number of which almost all are equipped. This charm is nothing more than a short sentence from the Koran. Had he lost an only child he could scarcely have been more afflicted. I gave him a scrap of paper to make another, which Hadje promised to write out for him.
Dec. 26.—This morning after sunrise, Fahrenheit’s thermometer stood at 49°. The merchants were busily employed firing off their guns and putting them in order for the Bedites, an ancient race of native Bornouese, who have not embraced Islamism, and who occupy an adjoining territory, chiefly protected by its natural fastnesses. They are held both in dread and abhorrence by all the faithful. Every thing being ready at eleven o’clock, we broke up our encampment. Our kafila was now of an immense size. We had been joined at Bedeekarfee by 500 people at least, who were waiting there for an Arab kafila to pass through the Bedee country; for all Arabs are esteemed by the natives here extremely formidable, as well from the possession of fire arms, as from their national intrepidity. Their muskets, however, in comparison of those of Europe, are of the meanest quality; and so uncertain in their fire, that they are hardly worth more than their weight as old iron. The courage, too, of most of these Arabs is very questionable. When successful they are overbearing and cruel in the extreme, and in bad fortune are in like degree servile and abject.
The natives of Haussa carry their merchandise on the head, and go armed with bows and arrows. Those of Bornou convey their goods chiefly on asses and bullocks, and are armed with spears. The Haussa merchants deal in tobacco, Goora nuts, Koghelor or crude antimony, cotton cloth in the web, or made into dresses called tobes and turkadees, and tanned goat skins. Goora nuts are the produce of Ashantee and other parts near the west, and are chewed by all people of consequence, on account of their agreeable bitter taste, not unlike that of strong coffee, and the supposed virtue of curing impotency. They are even in great esteem as far as Fezzan and Tripoli, where they bring the exorbitant price of two dollars a score. Crude antimony in powder is applied by both sexes to the eye-lashes, to render them dark and glossy. Native cloth, or gubga, as before mentioned, is extremely narrow, seldom more than four inches in width. The tobe is a large shirt with loose hanging sleeves like a waggoner’s frock, generally of a dark blue colour, and is an indispensable part of male attire throughout central Africa. The turkadees are articles of female dress, commonly of blue cotton cloth, about three yards and a half long and one broad. Sometimes they are made of alternate stripes of blue and white (of the breadth of African cloth), or are all white, according to fancy. Women of better circumstances commonly wear two turkadees, one round the waist, and another thrown over the shoulders. These articles are bartered in Bornou for trona or natron, common salt and beads; which, together with coarse tobes, are also carried by Bornouese adventurers to Haussa. Our road lay over an elevated clayey plain, with low trees, most of them mimosas. We passed the ruins of several towns, and such of our travelling companions as were best acquainted with the country informed us it was well peopled before the Felatah invasion. At sunset we halted, being already in the Bedee country.
Dec. 27.—The temperature this morning was remarkably low, and the water in our shallow vessels was crusted with thin flakes of ice. The water skins themselves were frozen as hard as a board[65]. These water skins, by the way, are goat skins, well tanned and seasoned, stripped from the carcass over the animal’s head. They are extremely convenient on a tedious journey over arid wastes and deserts. The horses and camels stood shivering with cold, and appeared to suffer much more than ourselves. The wind during the night was, as usual, from the north, and north-north-west. Dr. Oudney was extremely ill, having become much worse from catching a severe cold. We now travelled south-south-west, over a country of much the same kind of soil as that above described. As we approached the low grounds it was better wooded, and the trees were of greater size and variety. Of these, the most remarkable were the kuka and the goorjee.
The kuka is of immense size, erect and majestic; sometimes measuring from twenty to twenty-five feet in circumference. The trunk and branches taper off to a point, and are incrusted with a soft, glossy, copper-coloured rind, not unlike a gummy exudation. The porous spongy trunk is straight, but the branches are twisted and tortuous. The leaves are small, somewhat like the young ash, but more pulpy, and growing in clusters from the extremities of the lesser twigs. The tree is in full leaf and blossom during the rainy months of June, July, and August. The flowers are white, large, and pendulous, somewhat resembling the white garden lily. The fruit hangs by a long stalk, and is of an oval shape, generally larger than a cocoa nut, with a hard shell full of a powdery matter, intermixed with reddish strings and tamarind-like seeds. In its unripe state it is of a beautiful velvety dark green colour, and becomes brown as it approaches maturity. The tree, whether bare of its leaves, in flower, or in full bearing, has a singularly grotesque naked appearance; and, with its fruit dangling from the boughs like silken purses, might, in the imagination of some Eastern story-teller, well embellish an enchanted garden of the Genius of the Lamp. The leaves are carefully gathered by the natives, dried in the sun, and used for many culinary purposes. Boiled in water they form a kind of clammy jelly, giving a gelatinous consistence to the sauces and gravies in most common use. I have also eaten them boiled with dried meat, according to the custom of the country, but did not much relish such fare. Both leaves and fruit are considered, to a certain degree, medicinal. The leaves, mixed with trona and gussub, are given to horses and camels, both for the purpose of fattening these animals, and as a cooling aperient: they are administered to the former in balls, and to the latter as a drench. The white mealy part of the fruit is very pleasant to the taste, and forms, with water, an agreeable acidulous beverage; which the natives, whose libidinous propensities incline them to such remarks, allege to possess the virtue of relieving impotency.
The goorjee tree much resembles a stunted oak, with a beautiful dark red flower, when in full blow rather like a tulip. The natives make use of the flower to assist in giving a red tinge to the mouth and teeth, as well as in seasoning their food. These two trees are generally found on a strong clayey soil, and are peculiar to Haussa and the western parts of Bornou.
At noon, we came in sight of a lake called Tumbum, apparently formed by some river in the rainy season. All the country to the southward and westward, as far as the eye could reach, was a dismal swamp. Just as we arrived within a short distance of the lake,—at the very spot in which of all others the Arabs said we were most likely to encounter the Bedites,—two men made their appearance. They were dressed in the Bornouese costume; a loose tobe and drawers, with a tight cap, all of blue cotton cloth. Each carried on his shoulder a bundle of light spears, headed with iron. I was a little way in front of our party, and first met them; they saluted me very civilly, and I passed on without further notice, when the other horsemen meeting them, and putting some questions, which the strangers did not answer to their satisfaction, immediately seized, stripped, and bound them. Considering it a matter in which I had no authority to interfere, I merely requested that their drawers might be returned to them, remarking, it was better not to treat them ill, as they might prove to be honest men. “Oh! d——n their fathers,” (the strongest imprecation in Africa), replied the captors, “they are thieves; what would they be doing here if they were honest men?” I still urged the propriety of taking them to Bedeguna, at least, to afford them a chance of being recognised by the townspeople, before treating them as robbers. I now rode off to water my horse; when I returned, I found the magnanimous El Wordee guarding the two unfortunate wretches, one of whom was a Shouah Arab, and the other a Negro. The latter, while I was absent, had received a dreadful cut under the left ear from a Bornouese, who pretended that the Negro had attempted to escape; an attempt little likely in his desperate situation. Notwithstanding the wound, they were leading the poor fellow by a rope fastened round his neck. He was covered with blood, and Dr. Oudney assured me, if the wound had been a little lower down it must have caused instant death. I could not refrain from beating the merciless Bornouese; and I obliged him to use his own tobe in binding up the wound, at the same time threatening to lodge the contents of my gun in his head, if he repeated his cruelty. The occasion prompted me to impress on the minds of the Arabs generally how unworthy it was of brave men to behave with cruelty to their prisoners, and to suggest, that it would be far better to sell them, or even to put them to death, than wantonly to inflict such barbarities. The Arabs threw the blame on the Bornouese, and although evidently exulting in secret over their captives, they were fairly shamed into good behaviour, and promised to liberate the men if innocent, or, if guilty, to surrender them to justice at Bedeguna.
Our road skirted the border of the great swamp, and we arrived at Bedeguna at sunset. The galadema, literally “gate-keeper,” or governor, was a Felatah, and a particular friend of Mohamoud El Wordee, by whom we were introduced to him. He was tall and slender, with a high arched nose, broad forehead, and large eyes; and, indeed, altogether as fine a looking black man as I had ever seen. His behaviour, too, was at once kind and dignified. Besides his native language, he spoke with fluency Arabic, and the tongues of Bornou and Haussa. He asked us a great many questions about England, of which he had heard; and said his master, the Sultan of the Felatahs, would be glad to see us. He applied to Dr. Oudney for medicines, on account of a urinary obstruction, a disease very prevalent in this country. We made him a present of a small paper snuff-box full of cloves; he sent us, in return, a plentiful supply of milk.
The territory of Bedeguna, or little Bede, formerly belonged to Bornou. The inhabitants are Bornouese, and speak their native language. The territory includes many towns and villages, and produces much gussub, Indian corn, wheat, and cotton. Herds of cattle are also numerous. The principal implement of agriculture is a hoe made of native iron, of their own manufacture. They reap with a crooked knife, and merely cut off the ears of corn, which they store in round thatched huts of clay, or matting, raised on wooden blocks from the ground. The grain is cleaned from the husk by hand rubbing, and ground into flour between two stones. We saw no plough to the southward of Sockna, a town between Tripoli and Fezzan. I inquired of the governor about the source of the swollen river we crossed on a raft between Gateramaran and old Birnee, which again presented itself close to our present encampment. He told me it rose in the country of Yacoba, among rocky hills, and, running to the eastward of old Birnee, soon afterwards entered the Yow. On questioning him further about Yacoba, the name of the country, he said it was the sultan’s name; for the people were infidels, and had no name for their own country. The river, he added, was distinguished by the appellation of the Little River, and in these parts did not dry up throughout the whole year.