A little beyond the first dry watercourse, where water was to be scooped out a few feet under the surface of the ground, we rested for the heat of the day; but the vegetation around was far from being so rich here as in the valley Tíggeda, at the eastern foot of the picturesque mountain, where, after a short march in the afternoon, we encamped for the night. This was the finest valley I had yet seen in the country. The broad sandy bed of the torrent, at present dry, was bordered with the most beautiful fresh grass, forming a fine turf, shaded by the richest and densest foliage of several kinds of mimosa, the táborak or Balanites, the tághmart, the abísga, and tunfáfia, while over all this mass of verdure towered the beautiful peaks which on this side start forth from the massive mountain, the whole tinged with the varied tints of the setting sun. This delicious spectacle filled my heart with delight, and having sat down a little while quietly to enjoy it, I made a sketch of the beautiful forms of the mountain peaks. Just before encamping we had passed a small chapel in ruins, surrounded by a cemetery. At that time I thought this valley identical with the Tekádda (as the name is generally spelt), mentioned by Ebn Khaldún and by Ebn Batúta as an independent little Berber state between Gógo and Káhir, lying on the road of the pilgrims; but I found afterwards that there is another place which has better claims to this identification.
Monday, October 7.—We began a most interesting day’s march, winding first along the valley Tíggeda (which now, in the cool of the morning, was enlivened by numerous flocks of wild pigeons), and then over a short tract of rocky ground entering the still more picturesque “Erázar-n-Ásada,” on the west only lined by low rocky ridges, but bordered towards the east by the steep massive forms of the Dógem. Here, indeed, a really tropical profusion of vegetation covered the whole bottom of the valley, and scarcely left a narrow low passage for the camels, the rider being obliged to stoop every moment to avoid being swept off his seat. The principal tree here is the dúm-tree, or Cucifera Thebaïca, which I had not seen since Selúfiet; but here it was in the wild picturesque state into which it soon relapses if left to nature. There was, besides, a great variety of the acacia tribe, all growing most luxuriantly, and interwoven with creepers, which united the whole mass of vegetation into one thick canopy. I regret that there was no leisure for making a sketch, as this valley was far more picturesque even than Aúderas, of which I have been able to give the reader a slight outline.
In this interesting valley we met two droll and jovial-looking musicians, clad in a short and narrow blue shirt, well fastened round their loins, and a small straw hat. Each of them carried a large drum, or tímbali, with which they had been cheering the spirits of a wedding-party, and were now proceeding to some other place on a similar errand. We then met a large slave-caravan, consisting of about forty camels and sixty slaves, winding along the narrow path, hemmed in by the rank vegetation, and looking rather merry than sad, the poor blacks gladdened, doubtless, by the picturesque landscape, and keeping up a lively song in their native melody. In the train of this caravan, and probably interested in its lawless merchandise, went Snúsi and Awed el Khér, two of the camel-drivers with whom we had come from Múrzuk, and who probably had laid out the money gained from the English mission in the very article of trade which it is the desire of the English Government to prohibit. This is a sinister result of well-meant commercial impulses, which will probably subsist as long as the slave-trade itself exists on the north coast of Africa.[8]
On emerging from the thick forest, we obtained the first sight of the majestic cone of the Dógem, while a very narrow ravine or cleft in the steep cliffs on our left led to the village, Ásada. We then began to ascend, sometimes along narrow ravines, at others on sloping rocky ground, all covered with herbage up to the summits of the lower mountains. In this way we reached the highest point of the pass, about 2,500 feet, having the broad cone of the Dógem on our left, which I then thought to be the most elevated point in Aír, though, as I mentioned above, the old chief Ánnur maintained that the Tímge is higher. This conspicuous mountain most probably consists of basalt; and, from what I shall observe further on, it may be inferred that the whole group of the Bághzen does so too. From this pass we descended into the pebbly plain of Erázar-n-Déndemu, thickly overgrown with small talha-trees, and showing along the path numerous footprints of the lion, which are extremely common in these highland wildernesses, which, while affording sufficient vegetation and water for a variety of animals, are but thinly inhabited, and everywhere offer a safe retreat. However, from what I saw of him, he is not a very ferocious animal here.
The weather meanwhile had become sultry; and when, after having left the plain, we were winding through narrow glens, the storm, the last of the rainy season, broke out; and through the mismanagement of the slaves, not only our persons, but all our things were soaked with the rain. Our march became rather cheerless, everything being wet, and the whole ground covered with water, which along the watercourses formed powerful torrents. At length we entered the gloomy, rugged valley of Tághist, covered with basaltic stones, mostly of the size of a child’s head, and bordered by sorry-looking rocky hills.
Tághist is remarkable as the place of prayer founded by the man who introduced Islám into Central Negroland,[9] and thus gave the first impulse to that continual struggle which, always extending further and further, seems destined to overpower the nations at the very equator, if Christianity does not presently step in to dispute the ground with it. This man was the celebrated Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím ben Maghíli, a native of Búda, in Tawát,[10] and a contemporary and intimate friend of the Sheikh eʾ Soyúti, that living encyclopædia and key-stone, if I may be allowed the expression, of Mohammedan learning.
Living in the time when the great Sónghay empire began to decline from that pitch of power which it had reached under the energetic sway of Sónni ʿAli and Mohammed el Háj Áskia, and stung by the injustice of Áskia Ismáil, who refused to punish the murderers of his son, he turned his eyes on the country where successful resistance had first been made against the all-absorbing power of the Asáki, and which, fresh and youthful as it was, promised a new splendour, if enlightened by the influence of a purer religion. Instigated by such motives, partly merely personal, partly of a more elevated character, Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím turned his steps towards Kátsena, where we shall find him again; but on his way thither he founded in this spot a place of prayer, to remain a monument to the traveller of the path which the religion of the One God took from the far east to the country of the blacks. The “msíd,” or “mesálla,” at present is only marked by stones laid out in a regular way, and enclosing a space from sixty to seventy feet long, and fifteen broad, with a small mehhráb, which is adorned (accidentally or intentionally, I cannot say) by a young talha-tree. This is the venerated and far-famed “Makám eʾ Sheikh ben ʿAbd el Kerím,” where the traveller coming from the north never omits to say his prayers; others call it Msíd Sídi Baghdádi, the name Baghdádi being often given by the blacks to the Sheikh, who had long resided in the east.
At length we descended from the rugged ground of Tághist into the commencement of the celebrated valley of Aúderas, the fame of which penetrated to Europe many years ago. Here we encamped, wet as we were, on the slope of the rocky ground, in order to guard against the humidity of the valley. Opposite to us, towards the south, on the top of a hill, lay the little village Aërwen wan Tídrak. Another village, called Ífarghén, is situated higher up the valley, on the road from Aúderas to Damerghú. On our return I saw in this valley a barbarous mode of tillage, three slaves being yoked to a sort of plough, and driven like oxen by their master. This is probably the most southern place in Central Africa where the plough is used; for all over Sudán the hoe or fertaña is the only instrument used for preparing the ground.
