On the night of the 3rd of February some rain again fell, but it was not heavy enough to penetrate the grass coverings that we had improvised for our baggage. This was the third occasion on which we had now had rain, and although the fall had been very insignificant, in fact scarcely a quarter of an inch, yet the effect was so great as to be almost magical. Its influence alike upon the thirsty earth and withered steppes was very wondrous, and the sprouting stalks of grass bore ample witness to the invigoration that it brought.
A broad valley, alternately steppe and cultivated land, spread itself out around the residence of Nganye, and through its midst there wound a watercourse which now was dry. Over this we made our way; and mounting the opposite acclivity, proceeded one league onwards to the west, thus for the time reversing our previous progress. Black and barren were the burnt steppes at this season, when the elephant-hunting was all over, and they were unrelieved as yet by any vegetation. Literally our feet trod upon the embers of the burnt grass, very much to the detriment of my own white costume, and involving a large consumption of my soap that had been so laboriously procured from oil of sesame, burnt wood, and oyster-shells. Around the base of the charred bushes there were little lines of green where the young sprouting herbage broke through the earth, and now and then some opening blossom would give an unexpected beauty to the scene. It almost seemed as if these early-blooming children of Flora had been waiting for a few drops of the rain that they might escape from the womb with the remnant of the sap which it had yet to give. Upon the general gloomy aspect of the landscape these rare scattered blooms of course could make no impression; it was needful to seek for them, and bend low to find them; they were modest as the violet which seems to hide itself by the wayside, and yet has charm enough to detain the passer-by.
A charming walk of two leagues and a half brought us to a subsidiary holding of Nganye’s, named after its superintendent Gumba. The villages of the district were abundant in corn, and afforded too welcome a chance for the hungry bearers to resist making there their halting-place; the prospect, moreover, of brimming beer-flasks had its wonted attraction with the Nubians. The goal was full in view; a little ridge of hills beckoned hospitably from afar, and immediately beyond were the broad acres of cultivated land which belonged, to Gumba.
A region was this which rarely failed to supply charming halting-places, and we could take our noontide rest in shady yet breezy positions beneath the spreading trees. The tamarind, however, which hitherto had thrown over us its pleasant canopy during our way along the lonely desert, now failed entirely, and I saw it again no further to the south; so also Mungo Park’s butter-tree, which had been so prominent a feature upon the red soil of the Bongo and the Dyoor, now disappeared completely from the scene; but on the other hand there were here displayed as much as in the northern latitudes the Parkia, the Afzelia, the Vitex, the fig, and the Khaya, whilst with these there were intermingled many new and striking forms of incomparable beauty.
A NIAM-NIAM MINSTREL.
COLOCASIÆ.
The country hereabout was tolerably secure, the Niam-niam being desirous to secure Aboo Sammat’s friendship in order to ward off any mischief that might arise from the dangerous neighbourhood of Sabby. I considered it sufficiently safe to venture upon a little tour, attended only by my two Niam-niam servants. Directing my steps to the hill, I found that it was only like a hundred others, a pile of brown roe-stone, and apart from the open panorama it afforded, it possessed no interest at all. All along I gathered weeds and plants in ever-fresh variety.
Making at length our halt at a hamlet, my two companions drew my attention to a valuable production of their land. Underneath one of the granaries, which was supported in the usual way upon posts, was a great pile of firmly-pressed clay. On this an old woman was hammering with the pestle belonging to her mortar, and having knocked a hole, she drew out some tubers of a kind that I did not recognise. I afterwards found that it was the Colocasia, which is cultivated very freely throughout the Niam-niam country, and which when boiled makes a very excellent vegetable. The thick covering of clay is put over them not only to keep them moist in the dry season, but also to defend them from the ravages of rats, worms, and white ants. Whenever any of the tubers are required it is only needful to knock a hole through the clay, which can be plastered up again with a few handfuls of fresh mud. The same plan is also adopted in the rainy season to protect the crops from damp and rot; thus clay, everywhere abundant, is an universal antidote to the violence of nature.