They were tall men, with broad, coarse features, very different from any I had seen before, and with long hair hanging down upon their shoulders and over their face, in a way which is an abomination to the Tuarek; but upon inquiry I learnt that they belonged to the tribe of the Ighdalén, or Éghedel, a very curious mixed tribe of Berber and Sónghay blood, and speaking the Sónghay language. The mode of buying and selling, also, was very peculiar; for the price was neither fixed in dollars, nor in shells, but either in merchandise of various descriptions, such as calico, shawls, tobes, or in Negro millet, which is the real standard of the market of Ágades at the present time, while, during the period of its prime, it was apparently the gold of Gágho. This way of buying or selling is called “kárba.” There was a very animated scene between two persons, and to settle the dispute it was necessary to apply to the “serki-n-káswa,” who for every camel sold in the market receives three “réjel.”
From this place we went to the vegetable-market, or “káswa-n-delélti,”[12] which was but poorly supplied, only cucumbers and molukhia (or Corchorus olitorius) being procurable in considerable plenty. Passing thence to the butchers’ market, we found it very well supplied, and giving proof that the town was not yet quite deserted, although some strangers were just gathering for the installation of the Sultan, as well as for the celebration of the great holiday, the ʿAid el kebír, or Salla-léja. I will only observe that this market (from its name, “káswa-n-rákoma,” or “yóbu yoëwoëni”) seems evidently to have been formerly the market where full-grown camels were sold. We then went to the third market, called katánga, where, in a sort of hall supported by the stems of the dúm-tree, about six or seven women were exhibiting, on a sort of frame, a variety of small things, such as beads and necklaces, sandals, small oblong tin boxes such as the Kél-owí wear for carrying charms, small leather boxes of the shape here represented, but of all possible sizes, from the diameter of an inch to as much as six inches. They are very neatly made, in different colours, and are used for tobacco, perfumes, and other purposes, and are called “botta.” I saw here also a very nice plate of copper, which I wanted to buy the next day, but found that it was sold. A donkey-saddle, “ákomar,” and a camel-saddle, or “kíri,” were exposed for sale. The name “katánga” serves, I think, to explain the name by which the former (now deserted) capital of Yóruba is generally known; I mean Katúnga, which name is given to it only by the Háusa and other neighbouring tribes.
I then went, with Mohammed “the Foolish” and another Kél-owí, to a shoemaker who lived in the south-western quarter of the town, and I was greatly surprised to find here Berbers as artisans; for even if the shoemaker was an Ámghi, and not a free Amóshagh (though from his frank and noble bearing I had reason to suspect the latter), at least he understood scarcely a word of Háusa, and all the conversation was carried on in Uraghíye. He and his assistants were busy in making neat sandals; and a pair of very handsome ones, which indeed could not be surpassed, either in neatness or in strength, by the best that are made in Kanó, were just ready, and formed the object of a long and unsuccessful bargaining. The following day, however, Mohammed succeeded in obtaining them for a mithkál. My shoes formed a great object of curiosity for these Emgédesi shoemakers, and they confessed their inability to produce anything like them. On returning to our quarters we met several horsemen, with whom I was obliged to enter into a longer conversation than I liked, in the streets. I now observed that several of them were armed with the bow and arrow instead of the spear. Almost all the horses are dressed with the “karaúrawa” (strings of small bells attached to their heads), which make a great noise, and sometimes create a belief that a great host is advancing, when there are only a few of these horsemen. The horses in general were in indifferent condition, though of tolerable size; of course they are ill fed, in a place where grain is comparatively dear. The rider places only his great toe in the stirrup, the rest of the foot remaining outside.
The occurrences of the day were of so varied a nature, opening to me a glance into an entirely new region of life, that I had ample material for my evening’s meditation, when I lay stretched out on my mat before the door of my dark and close room. Nor was my bodily comfort neglected, the Sultan being so kind and attentive as to send me a very palatable dish of “finkáso,” a sort of thick pancake made of wheat, and well buttered, which, after the unpalatable food I had had in Tintéllust, appeared to me the greatest luxury in the world.
Saturday, October 12.—Having thus obtained a glance into the interior of the town, I was anxious to get a view of the whole of it, and ascending, the following morning, the terrace of our house, obtained my object entirely, the whole town being spread out before my eyes, with the exception of the eastern quarter. The town is built on a level, which is only interrupted by small hills formed of rubbish heaped up in the midst of it by the negligence of the people. Excepting these, the line formed by the flat-terraced houses is interrupted only by the mesállaje (which formed my basis for laying down the plan of the town), besides about fifty or fifty-five dwellings raised to two storeys, and by three dúm-trees and five or six talha-trees. Our house also had been originally provided with an upper storey, or rather with a single garret—for generally the upper storey consists of nothing else; but it had yielded to time, and only served to furnish amusement to my foolish friend Mohammed, who never failed, when he found me on the terrace, to endeavour to throw me down the breach. Our old close-handed friend Ánnur did not seem to care much for the appearance of his palace in the town, and kept his wife here on rather short allowance. By-and-by, as I went every day to enjoy this panorama, I was able to make a faithful view of the western quarter of the town as seen from hence, which gives a more exact idea of the place than any verbal description could do.
About noon the amanókal sent his musicians to honour me and my companions with a performance; they were four or five in number, and were provided with the instruments usual in Sudán, in imitation of the Arabs. More interesting was the performance of a single “maimólo,” who visited us after we had honourably rewarded the royal musicians, and accompanied his play, on a three-stringed “mólo,” or guitar, with an extemporaneous song.
My companions then took me to the house of the kádhi, after having paid a short visit to the camel-market. The kádhi, or here rather alkáli, who lives a little south-west from the mosque, in a house entirely detached on all sides, was sitting with the mufti in the vestibule of his dwelling, where sentence is pronounced, and after a few compliments, proceeded to hear the case of my companions, who had a law-suit against a native of the town, named Wá-n-seres, and evidently of Berber origin. Evidence was adduced to the effect that he had sold a she-camel which had been stolen from the Kél-owí, while he (the defendant) on his part proved that he had bought it from a man who swore that it was not a stolen camel. The pleas of both parties having been heard, the judge decided in favour of Wá-n-seres. The whole transaction was carried on in Temáshight, or rather in Uraghíye. Then came another party, and while their case was being heard we went out and sat down in front of the house, under the shade of a sort of verandah consisting of mats supported by long stakes, after which we took leave of the kádhi, who did not seem to relish my presence, and afterwards showed no very friendly feelings towards me.
While my lazy companions wanted to go home, I fortunately persuaded Mohammed, after much reluctance, to accompany me through the southern part of the town, where, lonely and deserted as it seemed to be, it was not prudent for me to go alone, as I might have easily got into some difficulty. My servant Amánkay was still quite lame with the guineaworm; and Mohammed, the Tunisian shushán, had reached such a pitch of insolence when he saw me alone among a fanatical population that I had given him up entirely. First, leaving the fáda to our right, we went out through the “kófa-n-Alkáli;” for here the walls, which have been swept away entirely on the east side of the town, have still preserved some degree of elevation, though in many places one may easily climb over them. On issuing from the gate I was struck with the desolate character of the country on this side of the town, though it was enlivened by women and slaves going to fetch water from the principal well (which is distant about half a mile from the gate), all the water inside the town being of bad quality for drinking. At some distance from the gate were the ruins of an extensive suburb called Ben Gottára, half covered with sand, and presenting a very sorry spectacle. It was my design to go round the southern part of the town; but my companion either was, or pretended to be, too much afraid of the Kél-gerés, whose encampment lay at no great distance from the walls. So we re-entered it, and followed the northern border of its deserted southern quarter, where only a few houses are still inhabited. Here I found three considerable pools of stagnant water, which had collected in deep hollows from whence, probably, the materials for building had been taken, though their form was a tolerably regular oval. They have each a separate name, the westernmost being called from the Masráta, who have given their name to the whole western quarter, as well as to a small gate still in existence; the next, southwards from the kófa-n-Alkáli, is called (in Emgedesíye) “Masráta-hogú-me,” for the three languages—the Temáshight or Tarkíye, the Góber or Háusa language, and the Sónghay- or Sonrhay-kini—are very curiously mixed together in the topography of this town, the natural consequence of the mixture of these three different national elements. This mixture of languages was well calculated to make the office of interpreter in this place very important, and the class of such men a very numerous one.
In the Masráta pool, which is the largest of the three, two horses were swimming, while women were busy washing clothes. The water has a strong taste of salt, which is also the case with two of the three wells still in use within the town. Keeping from the easternmost pool (which is called, like the whole quarter around, Terjemáne, from the interpreters whose dwellings were chiefly hereabout) a little more to the south-east, I was greatly pleased at finding among the ruins in the south-eastern quarter, between the quarters Akáfan árina and Imurdán, some very well-built and neatly polished houses, the walls of which were of so excellent workmanship that even after having been deprived of their roofs, for many years, perhaps, they had sustained scarcely any injury. One of them was furnished with ornamented niches, and by the remains of pipes, and the whole arrangement bore evident traces of warm baths. Music and song diverted us in the evening, while we rested on our mats in the different corners of our courtyard.