A short time before reaching it, we had left on our right a series of hamlets inhabited by the Niam-niam belonging to Dippodo’s district: a league further on lay the villages of Uringama, on the extreme eastern frontier of Nganye’s territory, the Lehssy forming the boundary between the Niam-niam and the Mittoo; and a few more leagues still in the same direction would have brought us to the north-eastern limits of the Babuckur.
We reached the Lehssy shortly before sunset. The Seriba was built close upon the opposite bank, but it was so enclosed by the tall bamboos that towered high above the palisade that it was completely hidden from our view. The actual source of the Lehssy was at no great distance; the river here was about fifteen feet wide, and four feet deep, and flowed in a N.N.W. direction: the water was as clear as crystal, a peculiarity that appertains to all streams that are enclosed by bamboos, which delight in a soil that is intersected by springs. The stems of the bamboos rose to the height of forty feet; slender and graceful they bent themselves into an arch which stretched far across the stream; and as hardly anywhere could a more inviting spot be found for a siesta, so hardly anywhere could water be met with more tempting for a bath than that which flowed limpidly over its gravel bed.
On my arrival at the Seriba, I soon became convinced that I was in a land where corn was abundant; the very liberality of the messes of sorghum-kissere that were served up to my people was an ample proof that there was no scarcity here. In times gone by I had myself had an utter disdain for this food of the Soudan, but now, after so long a deprivation, I relished it heartily, and thought it equal to the most delicate of rolls. It was no doubt heavy and indigestible enough; still I could make a good meal of it; only on rare occasions during the Niam-niam journey had I tasted any sorghum at all, and when I had, it had been doled out in infinitesimal quantities, but with the fresh enjoyment of this luxury now, and with the returning opportunity of getting some real roast mutton, our previous privations were soon forgotten.
The Seriba Mbomo was ten leagues to the south of Kuddoo, on the Roah. Mohammed, with a thoughtful consideration of my tastes, had taken means to enable me to fill up some missing links in the chain of our route. During his march in February he had made one of his men who could write take down all the information he could get from the Mittoo guides; and from the same authority I obtained verbal confirmation of the reports which I had previously gathered, so that I was able to map out the entire district with what I believe is tolerable accuracy.
NUMEROUS BROOKS.
In the sketch of the route there were enumerated as many as twelve brooks that had to be crossed in the interval between Kuddoo and Mbomo, all supplied more or less copiously with water, even in the dry winter season. Reckoning from north to south, the series came in the following order: the Tee, the Burri, the Malikoo, the Marikohli, the Mangawa, and the Wary; then came the watershed between the Lehssy and the Roah, marked by the Gherey-hills, which I afterwards visited; then followed six more brooks, the Kooluma, the Magbogba, the Makaï, the Patioh, the Manyinyee, and the Malooka. Although all these streams have their origin quite close to the left bank of the Roah, yet they take a very devious course before they actually join it; the last five, indeed, do not directly meet the river, but join another stream to the west of the route called the Dongodduloo, which unites itself with the Tee or Tay; the brook that flows past Ngoly’s village, and which is known to the west of Sabby as the Koddoh, being an affluent of the Roah.
On the watershed, bamboo-jungles extend over an area of many square miles. The species which is thus found in such immense masses is the same which is so prolific in the lower terraces of the Abyssinian highlands. In the manner of their growth these bamboos remind me of an asparagus-bed in the summer-time, hundreds of sprouts start up from a single root, and in graceful curves droop over towards the ground. The habit of the plant is altogether similar to the Indian bamboo, which has lately been successfully introduced into the pleasure-gardens of Cairo. The Abyssinian species does not grow so thick in the stem as the Indian, but it attains as great a height, often rising to forty or fifty feet.
The well-tilled soil of Mbomo’s district reminded me very much of the country about Kuraggera; the land appeared well populated and covered with extensive fields of maize and sorghum. The extent to which maize was cultivated was quite surprising; whole acres were planted with it, and I obtained a large supply of fresh ears. I had these all dried and ground, and thus provided myself with a considerable quantity of flour, enough to meet the requirements of several weeks to come. The maize is here liable to the same drawback as it is elsewhere. It is very easily spoiled. This happens from two causes; it has a tendency to turn mouldy, and it is very subject to the gnawings of worms; the meal also ferments sooner than any other species of grain. The means adopted by the natives to keep it during the winter is simply to tie the ears in great sheaves and to hang them up on some detached trees, where they can have plenty of air, and yet be out of the reach of the noxious vermin.
One of the best productions of the country is the bean (Phasæolus lunatus), the same that is so much cultivated by the Mittoo; it is one of the most palatable species with which I am acquainted; its pods, that are short, broad, and crescent-shaped, never contain more than two large beans.
Although the settlement had been so recently established, Mohammed was very pleased with the store of ivory that had been secured.