But to return to the picture of life which the town of Kúkawa presents. With the exception of Mondays, when just during the hottest hours of the day there is much crowd and bustle in the marketplace, it is very dull from about noon till three o’clock in the afternoon; and even during the rest of the day, those scenes of industry, which in the varied panorama of Kanó meet the eye, are here sought for in vain. Instead of those numerous dyeing-yards or máriná full of life and bustle, though certainly also productive of much filth and foul odours, which spread over the town of Kanó, there is only a single, and a very poor máriná in Kúkawa; no beating of tobes is heard, nor the sound of any other handicraft.
There is a great difference of character between these two towns; and, as I have said above, the Bórnu people are by temperament far more phlegmatic than those of Kanó. The women in general are much more ugly, with square short figures, large heads, and broad noses, with immense nostrils, disfigured still more by the enormity of a red bead or coral worn in the nostril. Nevertheless they are certainly quite as coquettish, and, as far as I had occasion to observe, at least as wanton also, as the more cheerful and sprightly Háusa women. I have never seen a Háusa woman strolling about the streets with her gown trailing after her on the ground, the fashion of the women of Kúkawa, and wearing on her shoulders some Manchester print of a showy pattern, keeping the ends of it in her hands, while she throws her arms about in a coquettish manner. In a word, their dress, as well as their demeanour, is far more decent and agreeable. The best part in the dress or ornaments of the Bórnu women is the silver ornament (the “fállafálle kélabé”) which they wear on the back of the head, and which in taller figures, when the hair is plaited in the form of a helmet, is very becoming; but it is not every woman who can afford such an ornament, and many a one sacrifices her better interests for this decoration.
The most animated quarter of the two towns is the great thoroughfare which, proceeding by the southern side of the palace in the western town, traverses it from west to east, and leads straight to the sheikh’s residence in the eastern town. This is the “déndal” or promenade, a locality which has its imitation, on a less or greater scale, in every town of the country. This road, during the whole day, is crowded by numbers of people on horseback and on foot; free men and slaves, foreigners as well as natives, every one in his best attire, to pay his respects to the sheikh or his vizier, to deliver an errand, or to sue for justice or employment, or a present. I myself very often went along this well-trodden path—this highroad of ambition; but I generally went at an unusual hour, either at sunrise in the morning, or while the heat of the mid-day, not yet abated, detained the people in their cool haunts, or late at night, when the people were already retiring to rest or, sitting before their houses, beguiling their leisure hours with amusing tales or with petty scandal. At such hours I was sure to find the vizier or the sheikh alone; but sometimes they wished me also to visit and sit with them, when they were accessible to all the people; and on these occasions the vizier took pride and delight in conversing with me about matters of science, such as the motion of the earth, or the planetary system, or subjects of that kind.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE TSÁD.
My stay in the town was agreeably interrupted by an excursion to Ngórnu and the shores of the lake.
Thursday, April 24:—Sheikh ʿOmár, with his whole court, left Kúkawa in the night of the 23rd of April, in order to spend a day or two in Ngórnu, where he had a tolerably good house; and, having been invited by the vizier to go there, I also followed on the morning of the next day. This road to Ngórnu, is strongly marked with that sameness and monotony which characterize the neighbourhood of Kúkawa. At first nothing is seen but the melancholy “káwo,” Asclepias procera or gigantea; then “ngílle,” low bushes of Cucifera, appear, and gradually trees begin to enliven the landscape, first scattered here and there, further on forming a sort of underwood. The path is broad and well-trodden, but consists mostly of deep sandy soil. There are no villages on the side of the road, but a good many at a little distance. In the rainy season some very large ponds are formed by its side. Two miles and a half before the traveller reaches Ngórnu—the trees cease again, being only seen in detached clusters at a great distance, marking the sites of villages, while near the road they give way to an immense fertile plain, where beans are cultivated, besides grain. However, this also is covered at this season of the year with the tiresome and endless Asclepias. Among the sites of former towns on the east side of the road is that of New Bírni, which was built by the Sultan Mohammed, when residing in Berberuwá, about the year 1820, and destroyed by Háj Beshír in the year 1847, and does not now contain a living soul. Further on is a group of kitchen-gardens belonging to some grandees, and adorned with two or three most splendid tamarind-trees, which in this monotonous landscape have a peculiar charm.
It was about one o’clock in the afternoon when I entered Ngórnu, the town of “the blessing.” The heat being then very great, scarcely anybody was to be seen in the streets; but the houses, or rather yards, were full of people, tents having been pitched to accommodate so many visitors, while fine horses looked forth everywhere over the low fences, saluting us as we passed by. Scarcely a single clay house was to be seen, with the exception of the house of the sheikh, which lies at the end of the déndal; but nevertheless the town made the impression of comfort and ease, and every yard was neatly-fenced with new “síggedí” mats, and well shaded by kórna-trees, while the huts were large and spacious.
Having in vain presented myself at the house of the vizier, where the people were all asleep, and wandered about the town for a good while, I at length took up my quarters provisionally with some Arabs, till the cool of the afternoon aroused the courtiers from their long midday slumber, which they certainly may have needed, inasmuch as they had been up at two o’clock in the morning. But even after I had the good fortune to see Háj Beshír, I found it difficult to obtain quarters, and I was obliged to pitch my tent in a courtyard.
Being tired of the crowd in the town, I mounted on horseback early next morning in order to refresh myself with a sight of the lake, which I supposed to be at no great distance, and indulged beforehand in anticipations of the delightful view which I fondly imagined was soon to greet my eye. We met a good many people and slaves going out to cut grass for the horses; and leaving them to their work we kept on towards the rising sun. But no lake was to be seen, and an endless grassy plain without a single tree extended to the furthest horizon. At length, after the grass had increased continually in freshness and luxuriance, we reached a shallow swamp, the very indented border of which, sometimes bending in, at others bending out, greatly obstructed our progress. Having struggled for a length of time to get rid of this swamp, and straining my eyes in vain to discover the glimmering of an open water in the distance, I at length retraced my steps, consoling myself with the thought that I had seen at least some slight indication of the presence of the watery element, and which seemed indeed to be the only thing which was at present to be seen here.
How different was this appearance of the country from that which it exhibited in the winter from 1854 to 1855, when more than half of the town of Ngórnu was destroyed by the water, and a deep open sea was formed to the south of this place, in which the fertile plain as far as the village of Kúkiya lay buried. This great change seems to have happened in consequence of the lower strata of the ground, which consisted of limestone, having given way in the preceding year, and the whole shore on this side having sunk several feet; but even without such a remarkable accident, the character of the Tsád is evidently that of an immense lagoon, changing its border every month, and therefore incapable of being mapped with accuracy. Indeed, when I saw to-day the nature of these swampy lowlands surrounding the lake, or rather lagoon, I immediately became aware that it would be quite impossible to survey its shores, even if the state of the countries around should allow us to enter upon such an undertaking. The only thing possible would be on one side to fix the furthest limits reached at times by the inundation of the lagoon, and on the other to determine the extent of the navigable waters.