In the afternoon Mr. Overweg went to pay a visit to Ádishén at his residence in Kadé, which was about half-an-hour’s march distant towards the south. He returned in the evening with a present of a goat, but did not seem to be greatly pleased with his excursion; and it could scarcely be otherwise, for while these pagans, who were obliged to disown all national feeling, could scarcely show themselves in their true character, and unreserved in their national manners, in the presence of such an army, it could not but lower us in the eyes of our companions to have too many dealings with these pagans, as they were apt to confound us with them. To be regarded as a “kerdi” my companion cared little about: but I was not much inclined to be identified as such, and it could certainly reflect no honour on the character of our mission.
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE COUNTRY OF THE SHALLOW RIVERS.—WATER-PARTING BETWEEN THE RIVERS BÉNUWÉ AND SHARI.
Friday, Dec. 26.—At length we went onward to pursue our march, turning considerably out of our road towards the east, in order to avoid the residence of Ádishén, and to prevent its being pillaged. The army, proceeding in several large detachments, presented an interesting aspect. Here also green crops of the winter corn, or “másakwá,” were still standing in the fields. Further on we came to open pasture-grounds, and after a march of about ten miles we reached a village called Bógo, where we encamped. All the inhabitants had made their escape, although their chief, whose name is Bakshámi, was an ally and friend of Ádishén. The cottages were well built, but there was a great scarcity of trees. Amongst the furniture was a fishing-basket, or, as the Kanúri call it, “káyan”; and some of them were filled with dry paste of the red species of holcus, which however the people were afraid to touch, lest it might be poisoned. On a former expedition several people had been poisoned by a pot of honey which had been left behind, on purpose, by the natives in their flight. Already on this day’s march we had observed, in the distance towards the west, an isolated rocky mount; and here we saw it in more distinct outlines, while beyond, at a greater distance, the continuous mountain chain of Mándará became slightly visible.
Saturday Dec. 27.—Our march at first led through a dense forest, after which we emerged upon more open swampy meadow-lands covered with rank grass, and full of holes caused by the footprints of the elephant. Great quantities of Guinea-fowl were caught. Only here and there an isolated mimosa interrupted the unbroken line of the savanna. It was after a march of six miles that we obtained a sight of the first deléb-palm in the Músgu country. Already repeatedly in the narrative of my travels I have called the attention of the reader to this beautiful fan-palm; but in all the localities where I had before observed it, it was rather isolated. Even in Ádamáwa it is limited to peculiarly favoured localities, while in some extensive provinces of that country, such as Búban-jídda, it is wanting entirely. But here we had reached the country where this beautiful and useful tree, probably only a variety of the famous Borassus flabelliformis, is the most common and predominant representative of the vegetable kingdom. The Músgu call it in their language “úray.” From the Músgu country it seems to spread in an almost uninterrupted and unbroken line through the southern provinces of Bagírmi and Wadáy, as far as Kordofán, sending a few scouts and forerunners to adorn the capital of Bagírmi and the watercourse of the Bat-há.
We chose our encampment in a village called Bárea, consisting of scattered huts, and surrounded by rich stubble-fields, which were shaded by large wide-spreading karáge trees, presenting a most cheerful and comfortable scene. But we soon became aware that the fertility and beauty of this district were due to the neighbourhood of a large sheet of water full of crocodiles and river horses or “ngurútu,” and enlivened even by a few small canoes. It had been indicated already on our march by the flight of numerous waterfowl passing over our heads. Beautiful as the country was, however, the place was deserted, the inhabitants having given up their cheerful homes, and left the tombs of their worshipped ancestors to the discretion of the hostile army, in order to seek safety in flight. The village is the residence of a chieftain of the name of Musíkko, who acknowledges Kábishmé, the chief mentioned above, as his sovereign lord.
In the afternoon I received a short visit from a rather shabby sort of man, the chief of a place called Médebé, but who was an object of interest to me, as he had been sent as a messenger to the prince of Mándará, and had just arrived in the encampment from the capital of that little country. Travelling at a comfortable rate, he had arrived in three days from Morá, sleeping the first night in the place called Mókoshi, the second in Fétte, the place above-mentioned, and from thence to-day had reached this place; but the whole journey, in an expeditious march, may easily be accomplished in two days. Difficult as it would be to me to impart to the reader the delight which I always felt in tracing my routes from one point to another, and joining two places with which I had become acquainted, by new itineraries he may forgive me for sometimes troubling him with these geographical details.
MÚSGU.
Sunday, Dec. 28.—We did not spend our Sunday in a quiet contemplative manner; but nevertheless we spent it worthily, employing it in a good day’s march, which opened out to us new and important features of the character of the new region we had just entered. It was a pity we were not allowed by circumstances to proceed in our real character of peaceful travellers, anxious to befriend all the people with whom we came in contact, instead of being obliged to join this host of merciless and sanguinary slave-hunters, who, regardless of the beauty of the country and the cheerful happiness of the natives, were only intent upon enriching themselves with the spoil of the inhabitants. After a march of a little less than five miles, we emerged from the thick forest, and entered upon stubble-fields with numerous groups of huts and wide-spreading trees, whose branches were all used for storing up the ranks of nutritious grass of these swampy grounds, for a supply in the dry season. The country was pleasant in the extreme. Several artificial ponds enlivened the hamlet, and called to mind similar scenes in my native country, except that ducks and geese were wanting. The only scenes of active life which were at present to be seen were those of pillage and destruction.
The architecture of the huts, and the whole arrangement of the yards, was very similar to that of the village we had first seen on entering the country. But the tops of the granaries in general were here provided with a sort of “fennel,” covered in by a roof of straw. Broad well-trodden paths, lined by thick fences of a peculiar bush called “mágara” in Kanúri, which I have mentioned in another locality, were winding along through the fields in every direction. But there was one object which attracted my attention in particular, as it testified to a certain degree of civilization, which might have shamed the proud Mohammedan inhabitants of these countries. For while the latter are extremely negligent in burying their dead, leaving them without any sufficient protection against the wild beasts, so that most of them are devoured in a few days by the hyænas, here we had regular sepulchres, covered in with large well-rounded vaults, the tops of which were adorned by a couple of beams cross-laid, or by an earthen urn. The same sort of worship as paid by these pagans to their ancestors prevails in a great part of Africa, and however greatly the peculiar customs attached to the mode of worship may vary, the principle is the same; but I nowhere more regretted having no one at hand to explain to me the customs of these people, than I did on this occasion. The urn most probably contains the head of the deceased; but what is indicated by the cross-laid beams I cannot say.