Tuesday, Jan. 7.—There were again a few drops of rain in the morning. Soon after starting, we were greeted by the aspect of a few green kitchen-gardens, while we were still gradually ascending. On reaching the highest level, we obtained a sight of the mountains of Damerghú (“dúwatsu-n-Damerghú,” as they are called), a low range stretching parallel with the road towards the east, while ahead of us, and westward, the country was entirely open, resembling one unbroken stubble-field. Having crossed a hollow with a dry pond and some trees, we had at about eight o’clock a village close on our right, where, for the first time, I saw that peculiar style of architecture which, with some more or less important varieties, extends through the whole of Central Africa.
These huts, in as far as they are generally erected entirely with the stalks of the Indian corn, almost without any other support except that derived from the feeble branches of the Asclepias gigantea, certainly do not possess the solidity of the huts of the villages of Asben, which are supported by a strong framework of branches and young trees; but they greatly surpass them in cleanliness, on account of the large available supply of the light material of which they are built. It is, however, to be remarked that the inhabitants of this district depend in a great measure for their fuel, too, upon the stalks of the Indian corn. The huts in general are lower than those in Asben, and are distinguished from them entirely by the curved top of the thatched roof, which sustains the whole. In examining these structures one cannot but feel surprised at the great similarity which they bear to the huts of the aboriginal inhabitants of Latium, such as they are described by Vitruvius and other authors, and represented occasionally on terra-cotta utensils, while the name in the Bórnu or Kanúri language, “kósi,” bears a remarkable resemblance to the Latin name “casa,” however accidental it may be. It is still more remarkable that a similar name, “kúde,” is given to a cottage in the Tamil and other Asiatic languages.
More remarkable and peculiar than the huts, and equally new and interesting to us, as the most evident symptom of the great productiveness of this country, were the little stacks of corn scattered among the huts, and in reality consisting of nothing but an enormous basket made of reeds, and placed upon a scaffold of thick pieces of wood about two feet high, in order to protect the corn against the “kúsu” and the “gará” (the mouse and the ant), and covered over on the top with a thatched roof, like that of the huts. Of these little corn-stacks we shall find some most interesting architectural varieties in the course of our travels. The “gará,” or white ant (Termes fatalis), is here the greatest nuisance, being most destructive to the corn, as well as to all softer kinds of house-furniture, or rather to the houses themselves. Every possible precaution must be taken against it. The “kúsu,” or mouse, abounds here in great numbers, and of several species: particularly frequent is the jerbóa (dipus) which for the traveller certainly forms a very pleasant object to look at as it jumps about on the fields, but not so to the native, who is anxious about his corn.
While reflecting on the feeble resistance which this kind of architecture must necessarily offer in case of conflagration, particularly as water is at so great a distance, I perceived almost opposite to this little hamlet a larger one, called Mája, on the other side of the road, and shaded by some thorn-trees. From both villages the people came forth to offer cheese and Indian corn for sale. They differed widely from the fanatical people among whom we had been travelling; most of them were Pagans and slaves. Their dress was mean and scanty; this of course is an expensive article in a country where no cotton is produced, and where articles of dress can only be obtained in exchange for the produce of the country. On a field near the path the Guinea-corn was still lying unthreshed, though the harvest had been collected two months before. The threshing is done with long poles. The whole of Damerghú produces no durra or sorghum, but only millet or Pennisetum typhoïdeum, and all, as far as I know, of the white species. Further on, the stubble-fields were pleasantly interrupted by a little pasture-ground, where we saw a tolerably large herd of cattle. Then followed a tract of country entirely covered with the monotonous Asclepias gigantea, which at present is useful only as affording materials for the framework of the thatched roofs, or for fences. It is worthless for fuel, although the pith is employed as tinder. The milky juice (which at present is used by the Pagan natives, as far as I know, only to ferment their gíya, and which greatly annoys the traveller in crossing the fields, as it produces spots on the clothes, and even injures the hair of the horses) might become an important article of trade. The cattle, at least in districts where they have not good pasturage, feed on the leaves of the asclepias.
We were gradually ascending, and reached at about a quarter past ten o’clock the summit of a rising ground the soil of which consisted of red clay. Altogether it was an undulating country, appearing rather monotonous, from its almost total want of trees, but nevertheless of the highest interest to one just arrived from the arid regions of the north.
Having passed several detached farms, which left a very agreeable impression of security and peacefulness, we came upon a group of wells, some dry, but others well filled, where besides cattle, a good many horses were led to water, a cheerful and to us quite a novel sight; many more were seen grazing around on the small patches of pasture-ground which interrupted the stubble-fields, and some of them were in splendid condition—strong and well-fed, and with fine, sleek coats; all of them were of brown colour. But there was another object which attracted our attention; the trough at the well was formed of a tortoise-shell of more than two feet in length, and on inquiry we learnt that this animal, of a large size, is not at all rare in this district. It was already mentioned, as common in these regions, by the famous Andalusian geographer el Bekri.
Villages, stubble-fields, tracts covered with tunfáfia (the Asclepias), detached farms, herds of cattle, and troops of horses tranquilly grazing succeeded each other, while the country continued undulating, and was now and then intersected by the dry bed of a watercourse. Having passed two divisions of the aïr, of aïri, which had preceded us, and had encamped near some villages, we obtained quite a new sight—a large quadrangular place called Dam-mágaji (properly Dan Mágaji, “the Son of the Lieutenant,” after whom it is called), surrounded with a clay wall, spreading out at a short distance on our left, while in the distance before us, in the direction of Zínder, a high cone called Zozáwa became visible. Leaving a village of considerable size on our right, at a quarter to three o’clock we reached a small hamlet, from which numbers of people were hurrying forward, saluting us in a friendly and cheerful manner, and informing us that this was Tágelel, the old chiefs property. We now saw that the village consisted of two distinct groups, separated from each other by a cluster of four or five tsámias, or tamarind-trees, the first poor specimens of this magnificent tree, which is the greatest ornament of Negroland. Our camping-ground was at first somewhat uncomfortable and troublesome, it being absolutely necessary to take all possible precautions against the dreadful little foe that infests the ground wherever there is arable land in Sudán—the white ant; but we gradually succeeded in making ourselves at home and comfortable for the next day’s halt.
The greatest part of the following day was spent in receiving visits. The first of these was interesting, although its interest was diminished by the length to which it was protracted. The visitor was a gallant freeborn Ikázkezan, of a fine, though not tall figure, regular, well-marked features, and fair complexion, which at once bespoke his noble birth; he was clad in a very good red bernús, of the value of seventy thousand kurdí in Kanó, and altogether was extremely neatly and well dressed. He came first on horseback with two companions on camels, but soon sent his horse and companions away, and squatted down in my tent, apparently for a somewhat long talk with me, and he remained with me for full three hours. But he was personally interesting, and a very fine specimen of his tribe, and the interest attaching to his person was greatly enhanced by his having accompanied the expedition against the Welád Slimán, which none of our other friends the Kél-owí had done. On this account I was greatly pleased to find that his statements confirmed and corroborated the general reports which we had heard before. He was all admiration at the large fortification which, as soon as they heard that the Tuarek intended an expedition against them, the Arabs had constructed at Késkáwa, on the shore of Lake Tsád (carrying trees of immense size from a great distance), and where they had remained for two months awaiting the arrival of their enraged foe. He expressed his opinion that nothing but the great God Himself could have induced them to leave at length such a secure retreat and impregnable stronghold, by crazing their wits and confounding their understandings. I also learnt that these daring vagabonds had not contented themselves with taking away all the camels of the Kél-owí that came to Bilma for salt, but, crossing that most desolate tract which separates Kawár or Hénderi Tedá (the Tébu country) from Aír, pursued the former as far as Agwáu.
At the time I conversed with my Ikázkezan friend about this subject I was not yet aware how soon I was to try my fortune with the shattered remains of that Arab horde, although its fate had formed an object of the highest interest to the expedition from the beginning. As for ourselves, my visitor was perfectly well acquainted with the whole history of our proceedings, and he was persuaded that, out of any material, we were able to make what we liked, but especially fine bernúses—an opinion which gave rise to some amusing conversation between us.
This interesting visitor was succeeded by a great many tiresome people, so that I was heartily glad when Overweg, who had made a little excursion to a great pond of stagnant water, at the foot of the hill of Farára, the residence of Mákita, returned, and, lying outside the little shed of tanned skins, which was spread over his luggage, drew the crowd away from my tent. Overweg, as well as Ibrahím, who had accompanied him, had shot several ducks, which afforded us a good supper, and made us support with some degree of patience the trying spectacle of a long procession of men and women laden with eatables, passing by us in the evening towards the camping-ground of the chief, while not a single dish found its way to us; and though we informed them that they were missing their way, they would not understand the hint, and answered us with a smile. Many severe remarks on the niggardliness of the old chief were that evening made round our fire. While music, dancing, and merriment were going on in the village, a solitary “maimólo” found his way to us, to console the three forsaken travellers from a foreign land, by extolling them to the skies, and representing them as special ministers of the Almighty.