I had now entered Bórnu proper, the nucleus of that great Central African empire in its second stage, after Kánem had been given up. It is bordered towards the east by the great sea-like komádugu the Tsád or Tsáde, and towards the west and north-west by the little komádugu which by the members of the last expedition had been called Yéou, from the town of that name, or rather Yó, near which they first made its acquaintance on their way from Fezzán. I had now left behind me those loosely attached principalities which still preserve some sort of independence, and henceforth had only to do with Bórnu officers. Not feeling very well, I remained in my tent without paying my compliments to the officer here stationed, whose name is Kashélla Sʿaid, with whom I became acquainted on another occasion, but the good man being informed by the people that a stranger from a great distance, who was going to visit his liege lord, had entered his town, sent his people to welcome me, and regaled me with several bowls of very good paste, with fresh fish, and a bowl of milk.
Zurríkulo was once a large town, and at the time of the inroad of Wadáÿ revolted from the sheikh, but was obliged to surrender to his brother ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán. Since then it has gradually been decaying, and is now half deserted. The neighbourhood of the town is full of wild animals; and great fear was entertained by my companions for our beasts, as we had no protection in our rear. The roaring of a lion was heard during the night.
Monday, March 24.—Next morning, when we resumed our march, the fan-palm for some time continued to be the prevailing tree; but some kúkas also, or Adonsonia digitata, and other more leafy trees began to appear, and after a while a thick underwood sprang up. Then followed a few scattered, I might say forlorn, date-trees, which looked like strangers in the country, transplanted into this region by some accident. The sky was clear; and I was leaning carelessly upon my little nag, musing on the original homes of all the plants which now adorn different countries, when I saw advancing towards us a strange-looking person of very fair complexion, richly dressed and armed, and accompanied by three men on horseback, likewise armed with musket and pistols. Seeing that he was a person of consequence, I rode quickly up to him and saluted him, when he, measuring me with his eyes, halted and asked me whether I was the Christian who was expected to arrive from Kanó; and on my answering him in the affirmative, he told me distinctly that my fellow-traveller Yakúb (Mr. Richardson) had died before reaching Kúkawa, and that all his property had been seized. Looking him full in the face, I told him that this, if true, was serious news; and then he related some particulars, which left but little doubt as to the truth of his statement. When his name was asked, he called himself Ismʿaíl; I learned, however, afterwards, from other people, that he was the Sheríf el Habíb, a native of Morocco, and really of noble blood, a very learned, but extremely passionate man, who, in consequence of a dispute with Mʿallem Mohammed had been just driven out of Kúkawa by the sheikh of Bórnu.
This sad intelligence deeply affected me, as it involved not only the life of an individual, but the whole fate of the mission; and though some room was left for doubt, yet in the first moment of excitement, I resolved to leave my two young men behind with the camels, and to hurry on alone on horseback. But Mohammed would not hear of this proposal; and indeed as I certainly could not reach Kúkawa in less than four days, and as part of the road was greatly infested by the Tuarek, such an attempt might have exposed me to a great deal of inconvenience. But we determined to go on as fast as the camels would allow us. We halted at eleven o’clock, shaded by the trunk of an immense leafless monkey-bread-tree, a little behind the walled place Kábi, the southern quarter of which is alone inhabited, and where our friends the Tébu had encamped. Starting then together with them at two o’clock in the afternoon, we took the road by Déffowa, leaving on our right that which passes Donári, the country now assuming a more hospitable and very peculiar character.
For here begins a zone characterized by sandy downs from one hundred to one hundred and twenty feet high, and exhibiting on their summits a level plain of excellent arable soil, but with few trees, while the dells separating these downs one from the other, and which often wind about in the most anomalous manner, are in general richly overgrown with a rank vegetation, among which the dúm-palm and the dúm-bush are predominant. This curious formation, I fancy, has some connection with the great lagoon, which in a former period must have been of much greater extent.
The intercourse on the road this afternoon was exceedingly animated; and one motley troop followed another,—Háusa fatáki, Bórnu traders or “tugúrchi,” Kánembú Tébu, Shúwa Arabs, and others of the roving tribe of the Welád Slimán, all mixed together,—while their beasts of burden formed a multifarious throng of camels, oxen, horses, and asses. The Welád Slimán, who were bringing camels for sale to the market of Kanó, were greatly frightened when I told them what had happened to their brethren near Kúka mairuá, as they were conscious that most of the camels now with them were of the number of those which two years ago had been taken from the Kél-owí in Bilma. As evening came on, the dells which we had to traverse were thronged with thousands of wild pigeons, carrying on their amorous play in the cool twilight of approaching night. All was silent with the exception of a distant hum, becoming more and more distinct as we wound along the side of an exuberant meandering valley. The noise proceeded from the considerable town of Déffowa, which we reached at a quarter past seven o’clock, and encamped at a little distance to the north. Lively music never ceased in the town till a late hour.
Tuesday, March 25.—All was still silent in the place when, early in the morning, I set out with my little troop to follow the track of our temporary companions the Tébu. The village was surrounded only by a light thorny fence; but it seemed to be prosperous and densely inhabited. The country continued similar in character, but better cultivated than the tract we had traversed the day before; and the immense multitude of wild pigeons, which found a secure and pleasant haunt in the rank vegetation of the hollows, made it necessary to resort to some expedient to keep them off. High platforms were therefore erected in the fields, in the shade of some tree; and ropes drawn from them were fastened to poles and coated with a peculiar vegetable extract, which caused them, if put into motion by a person stationed upon the platform, to give forth a loud sound, which kept the birds at a respectful distance. We saw here also a small cotton-field. If the country were more densely inhabited and the people more industrious and better protected by their slave-hunting governors, all the lowlands and valley-like hollows, which during the rainy season form so many water-channels, and retain a great degree of moisture during the whole year, would afford the most splendid ground for this branch of cultivation.
The repeated ascent and descent along steep slopes of deep sandy soil more than a hundred feet high was very fatiguing for the camels. While ascending one of these ridges, we had a very charming view over the whole of the neat little village of Kálowa, lying along the slope and in the hollow to our left. It was rather small, containing about two hundred huts, but every yard was shaded by a korna or bíto-tree (Balanites); and comfort (according to the wants felt by the natives) and industry were everywhere manifested. In the midst was a large open space, where the cattle were collecting round the wells to be watered, while the people were drawing water to fill the large round hollows, “kéle nkíbe,” made with little clay walls to serve as troughs. The blacksmith was seen busy at his simple work, making new hoes for the approaching season; the weaver was sitting at his loom; several were making mats of reed; some women were carrying water from the wells, some spinning or cleaning the cotton, while others pounded corn for their daily consumption. The little granaries, in order to preserve the stock of corn from the danger of conflagration, which every moment threatens these light structures of straw and reed, were erected on a sandy level near the edge of the slope. Even the fowls had their little separate abodes, also of reed, very thrifty and neat, as the accompanying woodcut will show. Such was the simple but nevertheless cheerful picture which this little village exhibited. My two boys were a long way ahead of me when I awoke from my reverie and followed them.
It was shortly before we came to this village that we passed the enormous skeleton of an elephant,—the first trace of this animal which I had seen since Gazáwa (I mean the independent pagan place of that name between Tasáwa and Kátsena). The road was frequented; early in the morning we had met a party of tugúrchi with pack-oxen, who had been travelling a great part of the night, as they generally do on account of this beast of burden bearing the heat of the day very badly. About an hour’s march beyond Kálowa we met a party of horsemen coming from Kúkawa; and as their head man appeared to be an intelligent person, I approached him, and asked him the news of the place. He most probably took me for an Arab, and told me that all was well, but that the Christian who had been coming from a far distant country to pay his compliments to the sheíkh had died more than twenty days ago, in a place called Ngurútuwa, before reaching Kúkawa. There could now be no more doubt of the sad event; and with deep emotion I continued my march, praying to the Merciful to grant me better success than had fallen to the lot of my companion, and to strengthen me, that I might carry out the benevolent and humane purposes of our mission.