Shortly before we reached Gúlfo, we had passed a village entirely inhabited by Shúwa, and even called Shúwarám.
Though we had now reached the monotonous alluvial plains of Bórnu proper, yet the following day’s march in the company of my friend Bíllama, who, after we had become better acquainted, was anxious to gratify my desire for information in every respect, was highly interesting. Although the vegetation was very poor in comparison with that of the more southern districts, yet there was plenty of underwood, and we observed the small bush called “kúmkum,” the berries of which taste very like coffee, and which in reality may be a kind of Coffea. On our right we left a path leading by Yámaké, Tangállanda, and Kirbáje, to Kabé-Ngáwa, a place famous on account of its neighbourhood affording the “fógo,”—wood from which the shields (ngáwa) of the Kánembú are made: it lies on the road to Díkowa, passing by a place called Ájowa. The spears of the natives (kasékka) are made from the root of the kindíl or talha, but the javelin (béllam) from that of the kúrna; the shafts of arrows are made from the “kabílla”-bush, which hereabouts grows in great abundance. Cultivated and pasture-ground alternately succeeded each other, and I was astonished to see that the produce of this district was exclusively argúm móro, or Pennisetum, while ngáberi, or Holcus sorghum, is a much more general grain in Bórnu, with the exception of the country of the Koyám. A little before eleven o’clock we finished our day’s march in a small village called Múnghono-Mabé, where I took possession of a large hut constructed in the peculiar style of the Shúwa, the roof being of an oval shape, without the characteristic top or head, the “kogí ngímbe,” and supported by a pole, “dúngulis,” in the middle of the hut, while the thatch is made in a very irregular and hasty manner, the compactness of wickerwork being insufficiently supplied by a heap of reeds thrown upon the roof and fastened with ropes.
Sunday, July 20.—I felt much better; and after a beautiful moonlight night, we started earlier than usual, “dúnia kéte.” The morning was very fine; but the sun soon became rather powerful and troublesome. We passed a considerable pool of stagnant water surrounded by fine trees, tamarinds, and sycamores, such as in this district, where stunted mimosas form the predominant feature of the vegetation, are only seen in very favoured spots; it is called “kúlugu Hámtigu.” On the path itself also, deeply cut as it was in the sandy soil, there was a good deal of water. We passed the site of a large town named Dóngo, which had been destroyed by the Fúlbe or Felláta some forty years ago, but of which the circumference of the wall was still visible, the gate being marked by a colossal monkey-bread-tree or Adansonia, the constant follower of human society, spreading its gigantic branches out like an immense candelabrum. Bíllama brought me the berries of a bush called “búlte,” the taste of which was very much like currants; and further on he presented me with a “fitó,” a red fruit looking exactly like red pepper, with numbers of small kernels, and of a somewhat acidulous taste.
We rested a little more than three hours, during the heat of the day, near a pond of stagnant water, in a district rich in pastures, where, among numerous herds of the Shúwa, the cattle of Háj Beshír were also grazing. But the ground hereabouts seemed to be nothing but one continuous world of ants, which did not allow us a moment’s undisturbed repose, and even during our short stay they made several successful attacks not only upon part of our luggage, but even of my dress.
When we set out again, at an early hour in the afternoon, numerous pools of water along the road testified to the presence of the rainy season; and the village Máska, which we passed soon afterwards, was surrounded with corn and cotton-fields as well as by rich green pasture-grounds. The path was well frequented. We met first a horseman of the sheikh sent as a messenger to Ujé, with the order to call in the numerous horse of that district; and Bíllama was of opinion that his master had thoughts of arranging the affairs of Khadéja. Further on we met a troop of Shúwa women, who, in a mournful song, lamented the death of one of their companions. They passed us too rapidly to allow the words of their song to be distinctly heard.
The country on our left, and that on our right, showed a remarkable contrast; for while, on our left, cornfields, fine pasture-grounds, and villages succeeded each other, on the right an immense ghadír, or fírki, still dry, and only sparingly covered here and there with a little coarse herbage, stretched out to an immeasurable distance. At an early hour in the afternoon, deviating a little from the path, we turned into the village of Káliluwá Grémarí, which belongs to ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, the second brother of Sheikh ʿOmár, and found the male inhabitants of the village sitting in the shade of a chédia or caoutchouc-tree, busily employed in making wicker-work. However, they proved too clearly that we had entered the inhospitable zone in the neighbourhood of the capital; observing, with great coolness, that the sun was as yet high, and would enable us still to make a good march to some other place, they would hear nothing of our quartering in their village. But Bíllama was not the man to be laughed at; and, riding through the midst of them, he took possession for me of one of the best huts. I could not, in truth, approve of this despotical mode of dealing; but I was too weak to run the risk of spending a night in my tent on the damp ground. The villagers seemed to be drained to the utmost by their gracious lord, and did not possess a single cow; even fowls were scarcely to be seen.
In the evening I was greatly amused, at first, by the noisy hum of a “mákaranchí,” or school, close to my hut, where, round a large fire, some six or seven boys were repeating, at the highest pitch of their voices, and with utter disregard of the sense, a few verses of the Kurán, which in the daytime they had been taught to read by their master, who, doubtless, understood them as little as the boys themselves; but by degrees the noise became almost insupportable. It is generally thought in Europe, that a schoolboy is too much tormented; but these poor African boys, for the little they learn, are worried still more—at least, I have often found them in the cold season, and with scarcely a rag of a shirt on, sitting round a miserable fire as early as four o’clock in the morning, learning their lessons. Besides, they have to perform all sorts of menial service for the master, and are often treated no better than slaves.
Monday, July 21.—The country which we passed in the morning presented more pasture-grounds than cultivated lands; and after a little while I turned, with my companion, out of our path, to the left, towards a small encampment or “berí Shúwabe” of the Kohálemí, a Shúwa or Arab tribe, where, for three large beads, called “nejúm,” we bought a little fresh milk. On this occasion I learned from Bíllama, that the Shúwa or native Arabs settled in the district of Ujé belong to the tribe of the Sáraji, while the Sugúla and the Sálamát have their camping-grounds further east.
The country became rather dreary, black “fírki”-ground and sandy soil alternately succeeding each other; and traffic there was none. But when we reached the well of Maira, a considerable place which we passed on our left hand, the path became animated from an interesting cause, a whole village or “berí” of wandering Arabs passing through in search of fresh pasture-grounds to the west. Each mistress of a family was sitting on the top of her best household furniture, which was carefully packed on the backs of the cattle, and covered with hides, while a female slave followed her, sitting astride on the less valuable gear and the poles with pots and other such utensils; but, distinguished above all by the harness of her bullock, the neat arrangement of her seat, a leather tent-like covering over her head, and the stoutness of her own person, sat the wife of the chief. Most of these women, however, were rather slender than otherwise, testifying to the sound and well-preserved national taste of these Arabs. They never veil the face, and their dress is simple and decent; but they are not nearly so tidy as the Fulfúlde ladies. Most of the men followed at a great distance with the flocks of goats and sheep.