The Kawass (serjeant) on board our vessel, gives me much welcome information on the condition of this people. He is called Màrian, from Mount Habila, and is the son of the murdered Mak, or King of all the mountains of Nuba, a hundred and eighty in number, according to him, and subject formerly to his father, who was slain by the Turks. He was made a slave, and was obliged, as being such, to change his name from Uadassa to that of Marian. He is of middle height, has a regular black countenance, with vertical streaks on the temples; on the forehead he is tattooed, and has ten holes at the edge of each ear, from which the Turks have taken his gold rings. He is a sensible and modest man; has been in the service thirteen years, and understands it, but has not been able to gain promotion, because he is entirely forgotten, and has no one to make the necessary intercession for him: his young son, however, was preserved at the time, and Marian’s uncle, who pays tribute to the Turks, has appointed him his deputy. Marian perceives that his tribe cannot do anything, even with the greatest bravery, against fire-arms, and therefore does not wish to acquire his freedom again by deserting. Besides this man, there are two Dinkas, a Shillkaui, and a Jengäh, on board, though hitherto I have found it impossible to learn the slightest thing from them about the manners and customs of their country, because they consider that such information would be treachery to their countrymen.
At one o’clock, we got again under weigh towards S.W., and kept more to the left side of the river. About half-past two o’clock, we saw the first tokuls of the Jengähs, which are far more slovenly built than those of the Shilluks; they stand a quarter of an hour distant from the shore, near a single dhellèb palm: we landed near them. A sürtuk lay there, forty feet long, with vertical sides and pointed ends; the stern of the boat, although made of hard timber, is closed diagonally by a piece of wood: it appeared to be hewn out of the trunk of a dhellèb palm. A beautiful kind of mimosa, with thick foliage and yellowish red flowers, like floss silk, struck me especially. The blue clay soil was full of foot-prints of river buffaloes, several of whom shewed themselves yesterday evening, and blew their sackbuts stoutly.
We saw also this morning, for the first time, two giraffes, called, however, Saràff, and said to be very abundant here. As there was nothing to be gained, and no people shewed themselves, we left the place. Soon afterwards we saw a village on the same side, with some dhellèb and doum palms; near it a river, running from N.W. by W., flows into the white stream, which, however, was taken for an arm of the latter. I subsequently ascertained from our Jengäh Bachit, that the name of this little river is N’jin-N’jin, and goes far in his country towards W. He called the white stream Kih, and afterwards Kidi. The sounds in their language are really inarticulate, and they can hardly pronounce an Arabic word so sharply as our characters require.
Up to five o’clock, we had on the right shore, before which a green margin lies in the water, thirty-four villages of the Nuèhrs, each containing from twenty to a hundred and more tokuls. Only a few of these enjoy the shade of trees. I believe it to be certain, that where Nature has once planted propitiously a shoot, and this shoot, by its growth, has triumphed over the voracity of beasts, and the wantonness of man, or stood beyond the reach of their necessities, the tree may easily become an object of veneration to people living in a state of nature, owing to the shade it affords to meetings in the open air.
We sail continually N.W., with slight deviations to one side or the other. We advance three miles, an arm of the Nile scarcely 200 paces broad. There is said to be a larger arm on the left side, as appears also to be the case on the right, where we saw a man take his little canoe on his head, and carry it to the houses near at hand. The right shore has here no habitations of the Nuèhrs; beyond the river’s edge, and also behind the houses the Galla, or Steppe, is visible. The before-named mountains on the right shore, the larger one of which is almost covered with masses of rock, appearing at a distance like large trees, and behind which three smaller curly heads follow, have vanished towards the south. We sail N.W. by W., and another considerable mountain appears on the flat grassy scene towards N.W., whilst we anchor, at sunset, in the middle of the river. Our Bakhi (who was taken prisoner from Bakhara, and was previously called Denn) did not know the name of the hilly ridge lying in the mountainous country of the Jengähs. The N’jin-N’jin, however, which he also calls Kih, meaning the same as river, or water, is said to flow past the foot of high mountains. I was told that when the reed-grass, standing from three to six feet above the water, and becoming very dry from the sun, soon after the inundation has run off, although the roots may be still under water, is ignited, a young and tender grass springs forth, of which cattle are said to be very fond.
The white stream here, and indeed since yesterday, might be really called the Black River. The latter colour arises partly from the Thin, that heavy clayey morass with which the bed of the river is covered, instead of floating sandy particles; and partly also from the dark kind of moss, that we see among the reeds, continuing to the bottom of the river, for the current (amounting here to less than half a mile), is not able to keep its course clear. This long marshy lake, of some two hours in breadth, discloses a new world of plants, in various high grasses and bog-shrubs. The swarms of little birds seem to find their nourishment in the ripening seeds. I remarked two bitterns, having the greatest resemblance to our water-hens—silver-grey, with a white wing: and also the black Ibis. The small detached islands, linked together by marsh-plants, floated only very slowly, although the contrary wind had quite subsided.
9th December.—The latitude, yesterday evening, was 9° 4′. The river, or Kih N’jin-N’jin, would therefore disembogue itself between 9° 12′ and 9° 4′. Our Gohr, as it pleased them to call the arm of the Nile, which we navigated yesterday evening, and which was scarcely fifty paces broad, has increased this morning to 100 and 150 paces in breadth, ever according to the caprice of the reed-grass, predominant here, and impudently intruding itself, for the stream has scarcely anything to do with it. A very strong dew hung on the grass in large pearly drops, very refreshing to the eye at sunrise. The thermometer shewed 20° heat. The distant shore of this marshy lake was denoted by isolated trees and a few small villages. We were obliged to take again to the oars, as on yesterday evening, and went N.W.
A dreadful pest has made its appearance in these lakes. “Baùda” is the horrible name, and means nothing else than gnats, which, when a calm sets in, make the people, and especially the half-naked sailors, nearly mad. On the right side of the Nile we perceive no human habitations. The nation of the Nuèhrs is said, thus far, to dwell more towards the interior, on the left shore of the Sobàt, and may therefore keep at a distance these frightful swarms of gnats, that torment man and beast. On the left bank we saw, at an hour’s distance beyond the reed-lake, eleven small villages; yet the nation of the Jenjähs is said to be very numerous, and to inhabit the shores of their N’jin-N’jin in populous villages, situated on inaccessible mountains. At nine o’clock we sailed, with a tolerably favourable east wind, W. by S., and made three miles, whilst the rapidity of the current might have been about a mile. Clouds had collected in the sky, and we feared rain, to which the Egyptian inhabitants of the Nile are so sensitive.
At eleven o’clock the S.E. wind set in, when we went due N.W. The river, which has, up to this place, a breadth of from four to five hundred paces, widens again to about an hour’s breadth. A marshy swamp, however, soon again intrudes: its pointed angle springs from the right shore, so that the latter can be only an hour distant, even to the trees over the green grass-land, whilst the left shore, on the contrary, has retreated this hour and a half into an immeasurable bay, the limits of which cannot be reached by the eye, even from the mast. That we should not remark any villages in the vicinity of this marshy land, is naturally to be expected.
The right shore becomes wooded, and we see, everywhere, rising pillars of smoke, said to be signals, as the natives can discern our vessels from thence. At 1 o’clock, the right shore, on the foreground of which groups of ambaks rise, is about two hours’ distant. We noticed numerous morass birds collected on this wide plain. This marsh-tree, towards the left side of the shore, appears to delude us in the same manner, since it assumes the form of groups of trees, belonging, at other times, to firm ground. A new morass-plant, rising to a great height, with large corollas, similar to a tuft of reeds, elevates, here and there, its long bare stalks. Its external appearance indicates it, even from afar, to be the papyrus antiquorum.