Monday, Sept. 22.—Rose early, in order to get over in time, there being no other means of crossing than two mákara, each consisting of three yokes of calabashes. The camels, as is always the case, being the most difficult to manage, had to cross first; and after much trouble and many narrow escapes (owing principally to the unevenness of the bottom of the valley, the water channel having formed a deep hollow—at present from ten to eleven feet deep—near the southern shore, while in the middle the bottom rises considerably, leaving a depth of only six or seven feet) they all got safely over, and were left to indulge in the foliage of the beautiful mimosas which embellish the northern border of the river. The horses followed next, and lastly we ourselves with the luggage.
About nine o’clock in the morning I found myself upon the river on my three-yoked “mákara,” gliding through the stream in a rather irregular style of motion, according as the frail ferry-boat was drawn or pushed by the two black swimmers yoked to it. It was a beautiful day, and the scenery highly interesting; but, having been exposed to the sun all the morning, I was glad to find a little shade. When all the party had successively landed, and the heat of the day had abated, we loaded our camels and commenced our march. We were now left entirely to the security and protection which our own arms might afford us; for all the country to the north of the komádugu has become the domain of freebooters, and though nominally Sheikh ʿOmár’s dominion stretches as far as Berí, and even beyond that place, nevertheless his name is not respected here, except where supported by arms.
The country through which we were passing bore the same character as that for some miles round the capital; a very stiff, black soil, clothed with short grass and a few trees far between. Having encountered a flock of sheep, our friends gave chase; and after they had laid hold of three fat rams, we decided to encamp.
Tuesday, Sept. 23.—For the first four hours of our march the character of the surrounding country remained nearly the same; it then opened, and became better cultivated; and soon after we saw the clay walls of Báruwa, though scarcely to be distinguished, owing to the high mounds of rubbish imbedding them on all sides. Near the south-west gate of the town the road leads over the high mound (which destroys entirely the protection the wall might otherwise afford to the inhabitants), and lays its whole interior open to the eyes of the traveller. It consists of closely packed huts, generally without a courtyard, but shaded here and there by a mimosa or kúrna, and affords a handsome specimen of a Central African dwelling-place. The inhabitants, whose want of energy is clearly seen from the nature of the mounds, do not rely upon the strength of their walls; and to the disgrace of the sheikh of Bórnu, who receives tribute from them, and places a governor over them, they likewise pay tribute to the Tuarek. They belong in general to the Kánembú tribe; but many Yédiná, or Búdduma, also are settled in the town. Their principal food and only article of commerce is fish, which they catch in great quantities in the lake, whose nearest creeks are, according to the season, from two to three miles distant, and from which they are not excluded, like the inhabitants of Ngórnu and other places, on account of their friendly relations with the warlike pirates of the lake. As for corn, they have a very scanty supply, and seem not to employ the necessary labour to produce it, perhaps on account of the insecure state of the country, which does not guarantee them the harvest they have sown. Cotton they have none, and are obliged to barter their fish for cotton strips or articles of dress. Indeed, gábagá or cotton strips, and kúlgu or white cotton shirts, are the best articles which a traveller, who wants to procure fish for his desert journey by way of Bilma (where dry fish is the only article in request), can take with him.
At the well on the north side of the town, which does not furnish very good water, the horsemen belonging to our troop awaited the camels. Only a few scattered hajilíj (Balanites Ægyptiaca) and stunted talha-trees spread a scanty shade over the stubble-fields, which were far from exhibiting a specimen of diligent cultivation; and I was very glad when, having taken in a small supply of water, we were again in motion. We soon left the scanty vestiges of cultivation behind us, and some bushes of the siwák (Capparis sodata) began to enliven the country. At eleven o’clock, having mounted a low range of sand-hills, we obtained a first view of the Tsád, or rather of its inundations. The whole country now began to be clothed with siwák. Having kept for about half-an-hour along the elevated sandy level, we descended, and followed the lower road, almost hidden by the thickest vegetation. This lower road, as well as our whole track to Ngégimi, became entirely inundated at a later period (in 1854), and will perhaps never more be trodden: in consequence, when I came this way in 1855 we were obliged to make a circuit, keeping along the sandy level nearer to the site of the ancient town of Wúdi.
Shortly afterwards we encamped, where the underwood had left a small open space, at the eastern foot of a low hill. The prickly jungle was here so dense that I searched a long time in vain for a bare spot to lie down upon, when, to my great satisfaction, I found Bú-Zéd clearing me a place with his axe. The swampy shore of the lake was only about four hundred yards from our resting-place; but the spot was not well chosen for an encampment, and it was found necessary to place several watches during the night, notwithstanding which, a skin of mine, full of water, disappeared from the stick upon which it was suspended, and the Arabs tried to persuade me that a hungry hyæna had carried it off; but it was most probable that one of themselves had been in want of this necessary article of desert travelling.
Wednesday, Sept. 24.—We continued our march through the luxuriant prickly underwood, full of the dung and footsteps of the elephant. Here and there the capparis had been cut away, and large fireplaces were to be seen, where the roots had been burnt to ashes. The tripods, of which several were lying about, are used for filtering the water through these ashes, which takes from them the salt particles which they contain. This water is afterwards boiled, and thus the salt obtained. This salt is then taken to Kúkawa by the Kánembú whilst those who prepare it are Búdduma.
On our return from Kánem we met large numbers of this piratical set of islanders; and on my home journey in 1855, I saw them in the full activity of their labours. This salt, weak and insipid as it is, is at least of a better quality than that which the people in Kótoko prepare from neat-dung. In Míltu, on the Upper Shári, or Bá-busó, salt of a tolerable quality is obtained from a peculiar species of grass growing in the river. The Músgu, as we shall see, prepare this necessary article (or at least something like it) from the ashes of the stalks of millet and Indian corn.
After we had emerged from the underwood into the open country, we passed a considerable salt manufactory, consisting of at least twenty earthen pots. Large triangular lumps of salt were lying about, which are shaped in moulds made of clay. Several people were busy carrying mud from an inlet of the lake which was close at hand, in order to make new moulds. Keeping close along the border of the latter, and enjoying the fresh breeze which had before been kept from us by the forest, we halted early in the afternoon. A small Tébu caravan was also encamped here, no doubt with the intention of passing the night; but they did not like the neighbourhood of our friends, and, loading immediately, started off.
Our path now lay through fertile pasture-grounds, with a line of underwood to our left. It was a fine cool morning. We passed a large pool of fresh water, frequented by great numbers of waterfowl of various species. Overweg, on his fine and tall, but rather heavy and unwieldy charger, made an unsuccessful attempt to overtake a pair of kelára (Antilope Arabica? Aigocerus ellipsiprymnus?), who scampered playfully away through the fine grassy plain. At nine o’clock we reached the far-famed place Ngégimi, and were greatly disappointed at finding an open, poor-looking village, consisting of detached conical huts, without the least comfort, which, even in these light structures, may well be attained to a certain degree. The hungry inhabitants would not receive anything in exchange for a few fowls which we wanted to buy, except grain, of which we ourselves, in these desolate regions, stood too much in need to have given it away without an adequate substitute.