Monday, March 31.—At a tolerably early hour, I set out to continue my march, accompanied by a younger brother and a trusty servant of the kashélla, both on horseback, and traversed the entire district. It is called Dúchi, and is well inhabited in a great number of widely scattered villages. The soil is sandy, and cornfields and pasture-grounds succeed each other alternately; but I did not see much cattle. I was astonished also to find so little cultivation of cotton. Having met a small troop of tugúrchi with pack-oxen, we made a halt, a little after eleven o’clock, near the first village of the district, Dímberwá.
My two companions wanted to obtain here a guide for me, but were unsuccessful; however, after we had started again at three o’clock, they procured a man from the bíllama of the next village, and then left me. I wished to obtain a guide to conduct me at once to Kúkawa; but I was obliged to submit to this arrangement, though nothing is more tedious and wearisome than to be obliged to change the guide at every little place, particularly if the traveller be in a hurry. It might be inferred, from the number of little paths crossing each other in every direction, that the country is thickly inhabited; and a considerable troop of tugúrchi gave proof of some intercourse. Dark-coloured, swampy ground, called “ánge,” at times interrupted the sandy soil, which was covered with fine pasture; and we gradually ascended a little. I had already changed my guide four times, when, after some trouble, I obtained another at the village Gúsumrí; but the former guide had scarcely turned his back, when his successor in office decamped, most probably in order not to miss his supper, and, after some useless threatening, I had again to grope my way onward as well as I could. Darkness was already setting in when I encamped near the village Bággem, where I was treated hospitably by the inhabitants of the nearest cottage.
Tuesday, April 1.—Keeping through an open country with sandy soil and good pasture, we reached, a little after nine o’clock, the well of Úra, a village lying at some distance to the left of the path, and here filled a water-skin, and watered the horse; but, hurrying on as we were, perhaps we did not allow the poor beast sufficient time to fill his stomach. Having then marched on through an open country, where large trees cease altogether, only detached clusters of bushes appearing here and there, and where we saw a large herd of ostriches and a troop of gazelles, we halted a little before noon in the scanty shade of a small Balanites.
About two o’clock in the afternoon, after man and beast had enjoyed a little repose and food, we prepared to continue our march; and my horse was already saddled, my bernús hanging over the saddle, when I perceived that my two youngsters could not manage our swift and capricious she-camel, and that, having escaped from their hands, although her forelegs were tied together, she baffled all their efforts to catch her again. Confiding, therefore, in the staid and obedient disposition of my horse, I ran to assist them, and we at length succeeded in catching the camel; but when I returned to the place where I had left my horse, it was gone, and it was with some difficulty that we found its tracks, showing that it had returned in the direction whence we had come. It had strayed nearly as far as the well of Úra, when it was most fortunately stopped by some musketeers marching to Kúkawa, who met my boy, when he had already gone halfway in pursuit of it.
In consequence of this contretemps, it was five o’clock when we again set out on our march; and in order to retrieve the lost time, I kept steadily on till half an hour before midnight. At seven o’clock we passed a considerable village, called Búwa, where the troops, horse and foot, which had passed us some time before, had taken up their quarters, and two miles further on we had villages on our right and left; but still there were few signs of population, probably because, owing to the lateness of the hour, the fires were extinguished. We encamped, at length, near a small village, but had reason to repent our choice; for while we were unable to procure a drop of water, the inhabitants being obliged to bring their supply from a considerable distance, we were annoyed the whole night by a violent quarrel between a man and his two wives. But here I must remark that I very rarely witnessed such disgusting scenes during the whole of my travels in Negroland.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
ARRIVAL AT KÚKAWA.
Wednesday, April 2.—This was to be a most momentous day of my travels; for I was to reach that place which was the first distinct object of our mission, and I was to come into contact with those people on whose ill or goodwill depended the whole success of our mission. Although encamped late at night, we were again up at an early hour; but in endeavouring to return to the track which we had left the preceding night, we inadvertently crossed it, and so came to another village, with a very numerous herd of cattle, where we became aware of our error, and then had to regain the main road. Two miles afterwards there was a very great change in the character of the country; for the sandy soil which had characterized the district all along the komádugu now gave way to clay, where water is only met with at a considerable depth. We met a troop of tugúrchi, who informed us that none of the villages along our track at the present moment had a supply of water, not even the considerable village Kangáruwa, but that at the never-failing well of Beshér I should be able to water my horse. This news only served to confirm me in my resolution to ride on in advance, in order as well to water my poor beast before the greatest heat of the day, as to reach the residence in good time.
I therefore took leave of my two young servants, and, giving Mohammed strict orders to follow me with the camels as fast as possible, I hastened on. The wooded level became now interrupted from time to time by bare naked concavities, or shallow hollows, consisting of black sedimentary soil, where, during the rainy season, the water collects and, drying up gradually, leaves a most fertile sediment for the cultivation of the másakwá. This is a peculiar kind of holcus (Holcus cernuus), which forms a very important article in the agriculture of Bórnu. Sown soon after the end of the rainy season, it grows up entirely by the fructifying power of the soil, and ripens with the assistance only of the abundant dews, which fall here usually in the months following the rainy season. These hollows, which are the most characteristic natural feature in the whole country, and which encompass the south-western corner of the great lagoon of Central Africa throughout a distance of more than sixty miles from its present shore, are called “ghadír” by the Arabs “fírki,” or “ánge,” by the Kanúri. Indeed they amply testify to the far greater extent of the lagoon in ante-historical times.
Pushing on through a country of this description, and passing several villages, I reached about noon Beshér, a group of villages scattered over the cornfields, where numerous horsemen of the sheikh were quartered; and being unable myself to find the well, I made a bargain with one of the people to water my horse, for which he exacted from me forty “kúngona” or cowries. However, when I had squatted down for a moment’s rest in the shade of a small talha-tree, his wife, who had been looking on, began to reprove him for driving so hard a bargain with a young inexperienced stranger; and then she brought me a little tiggra and curdled milk diluted with water, and afterwards some ngáji, or paste of sorghum.
Having thus recruited my strength, I continued my march; but my horse, not having fared so well, was nearly exhausted. The heat was intense; and therefore we proceeded but slowly till I reached Kálilwá, when I began seriously to reflect on my situation, which was very peculiar. I was now approaching the residence of the chief whom the mission, of which I had the honour to form part, was especially sent out to salute, in a very poor plight, without resources of any kind, and left entirely by myself owing to the death of the director. I was close to this place, a large town, and was about to enter it without a single companion. The heat being just at its highest, no living being was to be seen either in the village or on the road; and I hesitated a moment, considering whether it would not be better to wait here for my camels. But my timid reluctance being confounded by the thought that my people might be far behind, and that if I waited for them we should find no quarters prepared for us, I spurred on my nag, and soon reached the western suburb of Kúkawa.