Thursday, May 29.—At four o’clock in the afternoon I left the “chínna ánumbe,” the southern gate of Kúkawa, on my adventurous journey to Ádamáwa. My little troop was not yet all collected. For being extremely poor at the time, or rather worse than poor, as I had nothing but considerable debts, I had cherished the hope that I should be able to carry all my luggage on one camel; but when the things were all packed up, provisions, cooking utensils, tent, and a few presents, I saw that the one weak animal which I had was not enough, and bought another of Mr. Overweg, which had first to be fetched from the pasture-ground. I therefore left two servants and my old experienced Háusa warrior, the Mʿallem Katúri, whom, as I have stated above, I had expressly hired for this journey, behind me in the town, in order to follow us in the night with the other camel.
Mr. Overweg, attended by a spirited little fellow, named ʿAli, a native of Ghát, who had brought his luggage from Kanó, accompanied me. But the most conspicuous person in our troop was Bíllama,[52] the officer whom the sheikh had appointed to accompany me, a tall, handsome Bórnu man, mounted on a most splendid grey horse of great size, and of a very quick pace. He had two servants with him, besides a man of Mʿala Ibrám, likewise mounted on horseback, who was to accompany us as far as the Marghí country. The messengers from Ádamáwa, as we proceeded onward, gradually collected together from the hamlets about, where they had been waiting for us, and the spearmen among them saluted me by raising their spears just in my face, and beating their small round hippopotamus shields; Mohámmedu was armed with a sword and bow and arrows. They had not been treated so well as, with reference to my prospects, the sheikh ought to have treated them, and Íbrahíma, instead of a handsome horse which was promised to him, had received a miserable poor mare, quite unfit for himself, and scarcely capable of carrying his little son and his small provision bag.
As soon as I had left the town behind me, and saw that I was fairly embarked in my undertaking, I indulged in the most pleasant feelings. I had been cherishing the plan of penetrating into those unknown countries to the south for so long a time, that I felt the utmost gratification in being at length able to carry out my design. At that time I even cherished the hope that I might succeed in reaching Báya, and thus extend my inquiries even as far as the equator; but my first design was, and had always been, to decide by ocular evidence the question with regard to the direction and the tributaries of the great river which flowed through the country in the south.
Leaving the Ngórnu road to our left, we reached the village Kába at sunset, but were received so inhospitably, that, after much opposition from a quarrelsome old woman, we took up our quarters not inside, but outside, her courtyard, and with difficulty obtained a little fire, with which we boiled some coffee, but had not firewood enough for cooking a supper, so that we satisfied our appetite with cold “díggwa,” a sweetmeat made of meal, honey, and butter. The inhabitants of the villages at no great distance from the capital are generally very inhospitable; but the traveller will find the same in any country.
Friday, May 30.—At an early hour we were ready to resume our march, not having even pitched a tent during the night. The morning was very fine; and, in comparison with the naked and bare environs of the capital, the country seemed quite pleasant to me, although the flora offered scarcely anything but stunted acacias of the gáwo and kindíl kind, while dúm-bush and the Asclepias procera formed the underwood, and coarse dry grass full of “ngíbbu” or Pennisetum distichum covered the ground. Now and then a fine tamarind-tree interrupted this monotony, and formed a landmark; indeed both the well which we passed (Tamsúkú-korí) and the village Tamsúkwá, have received their names from this most beautiful and useful tree, which in Kanúri is called tamsúku or temsúku.
After only four hours’ march we halted near the village Pírtwa, as Mr. Overweg was now to return, and as I wished my other people now to come up. Having long tried in vain to buy some provisions with our “kúngona” or shells, Mr. Overweg at length succeeded in purchasing a goat with his servant’s shirt. This article, even if much worn, is always regarded as ready money in the whole of Negroland; and as long as a man has a shirt he is sure not to starve. Afterwards the inhabitants of the village brought us several bowls of “bírri,” or porridge of Negro corn; and we employed ourselves in drinking coffee and eating, till it was time for Mr. Overweg to depart, when we separated with the most hearty wishes for the success of each other’s enterprise: for we had already fully discussed his undertaking to navigate the lagoon in the English boat.
We then started at a later hour, and, following a more westerly path, took up our night’s quarters at Dýnnamarí, the village of Dynnama or Ámade. Instead of this most westerly road, my people had taken the most easterly; and we at length joined them, a little before noon of the following day, at the village Úlo Kurá, which, with the whole district, belongs to the “Mágirá” (the mother of the sheikh), and so forms a distinct domain called “Mágirári.” But the country for thirty or forty miles round Kúkawa is intersected by so many paths, that it is very difficult for parties to meet, if the place of rendezvous has not been precisely indicated. The country hereabouts at this time of the year presents a most dreary appearance, being full of those shallow hollows of deep-black argillaceous soil called “fírki” by the Kanúri, and “ghadír” by the Arabs, which during the rainy season form large ponds of water, and when the rainy season draws to an end, and the water decreases, afford the most excellent soil for the cultivation of the “másakwá,” a species of holcus (H. cernuus), which constitutes a very important article of cultivation in these alluvial lowlands round the Tsád, or even for wheat. At a later season, after the grain is harvested, these hollows, being sometimes of an immense extent, and quite bare and naked, give the country a most dismal appearance. The water in Úlo Kurá was extremely disagreeable, owing to this nature of the ground.
Continuing our march in the afternoon, after the heat had decreased, we passed, after about four miles, the first encampment of Shúwa, or berí Shúwabe, which I had yet seen in the country. Shúwa is a generic name, denoting all the Arabs (or rather eastern Arabs) settled in Bórnu, and forming a component part of the population of the country; in Bagírmi they are called Shíwa. No Arab from the coast is ever denoted by this name; but his title is Wásirí, or Wásilí. This native Arab population appears to have immigrated from the east at a very early period, although at present we have no direct historical proof of the presence of these Arabs in Bórnu before the time of Edrís Alawóma, about two hundred and fifty years ago.
Of the migration of these Arabs from the east, there cannot be the least doubt. They have advanced gradually through the eastern part of Negroland, till they have overspread this country, but without proceeding further towards the west. Their dialect is quite different from the Mághrebí, while in many respects it still preserves the purity and eloquence of the language of Hijáz, particularly as regards the final vowels in the conjugation. Many of their national customs, also, still point to their ancient settlements, as we shall see further on. I became very intimate with these people at a later period, by taking into my service a young Shúwa lad, who was one of my most useful servants on my journey to Timbúktu. These Shúwa are divided into many distinct families or clans, and altogether may form in Bórnu a population of from 200,000 to 250,000 souls, being able to bring into the field about 20,000 light cavalry. Most of them have fixed villages, where they live during the rainy season, attending the labours of the field, while during the remaining part of the year they wander about with their cattle. I shall say more about them in the course of my proceedings, as opportunity occurs. The clan, whose encampment or berí we passed to-day, are generally called Kárda by the Bórnu people—I cannot say why,[53]—while their indigenous name, “Bajáudi,” seems to indicate an intermixture with the Fúlbe or Felláta, with whom the Shúwa in general are on the most friendly terms, and may often be confounded with them on account of the similarity of their complexion and manners. In fact, there is no doubt that it was the Shúwa who prepared and facilitated the settlement of the Fúlbe or Felláta in Bórnu.
We took up our quarters for the night in one of the four clusters of huts which form the village Múngholo Gezáwa, and which, by the neatness and cleanliness of its yards and cottages, did honour to its lord, the vizier of Bórnu. It was here that I first observed several small pools of rain-water, which bore testimony to the greater intensity and the earlier setting in of the rainy season in these regions. There were also great numbers of waterfowl seen hereabouts.