The goats of the country form a small race of their own and belong to the comprehensive variety which is called the Ethiopian. Differing from those of the Nile valley, they are again found among all the nomad people in the interior; the goats of the Dinka being a larger kind of the same character. The Ethiopian goat may be reckoned among the most agile and elegant of the race, and it might be called the climbing goat, since it prefers to feed on the young shoots of the acacia, and for that purpose often climbs up the slanting stems or low-growing branches. A large flock occasionally groups itself round a tree with pendant branches: in that case, the animals are rarely seen in any other position than standing upright on their hind legs, and give at a distance an impression that they must be a crowd of men. Others may be observed in grotesque attitudes, with legs straddling, hanging in mid-air, and weighing down the boughs of an acacia.
A Bishareen Sheep.
The Bishareen keep larger flocks of sheep than of goats; the breed is very peculiar, marked by distinctions which might almost constitute a nationality. The Etbai race is closely allied to the thick-tailed species in all general characteristics, but distinguished by the lissome condition of its long and bushy tail. The fleece is hardly worthy of being called wool at all, for it simply consists of rather long straight hair. Almost all are perfectly white, except (and this is the chief mark of distinction in the species) on the ancles and mouth, which are covered with black hair. The usual price in the country for such sheep never exceeds a Maria Theresa dollar (four shillings), whilst young lambs cost but half this sum. Cattle are found only in the environs of Suakin and on the road to Taka, lying further south than the one on which we travelled. On the route which we took, in consequence of the smaller rainfall, the pasture necessary for their maintenance is not permanent throughout the year, like it is in the lands adjacent to the Barka basin. In the next district we crossed a high level, intersected by numerous water-courses deeply worn amidst the stones and rubble. The most considerable of all these water-courses periodically flowing to the south-west, was the Wady Arab. The dry bed of this was bounded by shelving banks from 40 to 50 feet in height, and the ascent was steep enough to demand no small exertion from our laden camels.
SCHWEINFURTHIA.
Here grew in great abundance the plant, a species of Scrophulariaceæ, to which my own name had been assigned (Schweinfurthia pterosperma). It met me as a greeting from my distant home. In itself it is but an insignificant little weed, but upon its discovery, Alexander Braun, the celebrated professor of the University of Berlin, had named it in my honour—a little token of remembrance, which, according to the tribute of Linnæus, may be more lasting than any memorial in brass or marble.
A hollow, as of a saddle-seat, between the mountains led us over the chain, unbroken by a pass, of the fourth of the parallel mountain ridges which, with many branches, traverse this part of Africa. To the right on the north we left Mount Wowinte and the peak of Badab in which it culminates at an altitude of 5000 feet. The road then descended into the wide plain spreading to the west of this height, where a magnificent panorama opened to the view. Next we reached the Wady Habohb, a watercourse of which the breadth was about 400 feet. Proceeding across Wady Kokreb, two miles wide, we arrived at length at the equally wide Wady Yumga. By this time we were on the next line of the mountain range, in which is situated the much frequented well of Koway, a rendezvous for all the nomads who wander in the neighbouring localities. Here, by order of the great Sheikh of the Hadendoa, a tribute, sanctioned by the Egyptian Government, is levied on every caravan that passes.
My lazy camel drivers used every available opportunity to prolong the duration of the journey. For my part I was indifferent to this, as I had time at my disposal, and my enjoyment of the flora fully occupied me; my companions, however, were not so patient. They longed for their cherished Nile to put an end to this camp-life in dreary deserts. At length even my own forbearance was exhausted; the excuses became intolerable: at one time the camels had run away, at another they wanted food, so that it grew up to a regular fight between us four and the dozen Bedouins who were conducting us. Some sticks, the single Turkish sabre, and an indestructible pipe tube, which I swung in my hand, were our only weapons, but they sufficed to turn the victory to our side. My tube smashed a number of patriarchal shepherd staves, and thus an end was put to the eternal halts and feeds, and we went on towards the west at a better pace. I thought of the proverb that the European in India either learns patience or loses it.
As we followed the Wady Laemeb with the water of its channel now replaced by verdure, we come to O-Fik, the last mountain on the route, beyond which a desert, unrefreshed by a single spring, extends as far as the Nile valley. The last well was that of O-Baek. We lighted here upon some Bishareen families, who were staying temporarily with their flocks in the neighbourhood of the well, and were accustomed after the first rain to sow a considerable piece of ground with sorghum. Amongst the men may be observed expressive features, well developed, unlike ours, yet less unlike them than the other inhabitants of the Nile valley. But more frightful creatures than the women of these nomads there surely cannot be on earth. Of course I speak only of those who have passed the spring-time of their life. They are lean beyond all conception, and as haggard as their goats would be if shorn of their hair, which alone gives any roundness to their gaunt frames. There is nothing about them even of that natural delicacy of many savages which makes the children of the desert appear like the gazelle, which is clean, though it never bathes. Physically and morally they are loathsome; toothless, mangy, inquisitive, and chattering; in a word, they are the very incorporation of the infirmities of senility.