And so I separated from our worthy old friend with deep and sincere regret. He was a most interesting specimen of an able politician and a peaceful ruler, in the midst of wild, lawless hordes; and I must do him the justice of declaring that he behaved, on the whole, exceedingly well towards us. I cannot avoid expressing the sorrow I afterwards felt on account of the step which Mr. Richardson thought himself justified in taking as soon as he had passed from the hands of Ánnur into those of the authorities of Bórnu, viz., to urge the sheikh of that country to claim restitution from the former, not only for the value of the things taken from us by the bordering tribes of the desert, but even of part of the sum which we had paid to Ánnur himself. Such conduct, it appeared to me, was not only impolitic, but unfair. It was impolitic, because the claim could be of no avail, and would only serve to alienate from us a man whom we had succeeded in making our friend; and it was unfair, for, although the sum which we had given to the chief was rather large in proportion to our limited means, we were not compelled to pay it, but were simply given to understand that, if we wanted the chief himself to accompany us, we must contribute so much. I became fully aware of the unfavourable effect which Mr. Richardson’s proceedings in this respect produced, on the occasion of a visit which I paid the old chief in the beginning of the year 1853, when passing through Zínder on my way to Timbúktu. He then mentioned the circumstance with much feeling, and asked me if, judging from his whole behaviour towards us, he had deserved to be treated as a robber.
But to return to Tágelel, when I shook hands with the “sófo” he was sitting, like a patriarch of old, in the midst of his slaves and free men, male and female, and was dividing amongst them presents, such as shawls and turkedies, but principally painted arm-rings of clay, imported from Egypt, and of which the women of these districts are passionately fond. Mr. Richardson being ready to start, I took a hearty farewell of him, fixing our next place of meeting in Kúkawa, about the 1st of April. He was tolerably well at the time, although he had shown evident symptoms of being greatly affected by the change from the fine fresh air of the mountainous district of Aír to the sultry climate of the fertile lands of Negroland; and he was quite incapable of bearing the heat of the sun, for which reason he always carried an umbrella, instead of accustoming himself to it by degrees. There was some sinister foreboding in the circumstance that I did not feel sufficient confidence to intrust to his care a parcel for Europe. I had sealed it expressly that he might take it with him to Kúkawa, and send it off from that place with his own despatches immediately after his arrival; but at the moment of parting I preferred taking it myself to Kanó. All my best friends amongst the Kél-owí were also going to Zínder, in order, as they said, to accompany their master, although only a small part of the salt caravan followed that route. Overweg and I remained together for two or three days longer.
I felt happy in the extreme when I found myself once more on horseback, however deficient in beauty my little mare might be; for few energetic Europeans, I think, will relish travelling for any length of time on camel’s back, as they are far too dependent on the caprice of the animal. We set out at half-past seven o’clock, and soon passed on our right a village, and then a second one, which I think was Dákari, where a noble lady of handsome figure, and well mounted upon a bullock, joined the caravan. She was seated in a most comfortable large chair, which was fastened on the bullock’s back. We afterwards passed on our right the town of Olalówa, situated on a low range of hills. In the lower plain, into which we next descended, I observed the first regular ant-hill. Small groups of corn-stacks, or rumbús, further on, dotted a depression or hollow, which was encompassed on both sides with gently sloping hills. Here I had to leave the path of the caravan with my new companion Gajére, who was riding the bullock, in order to water our two beasts, a duty which now demanded our chief attention every day.
At length we reached the watering-place of Gílmirám, consisting of a group of not less than twenty wells, but all nearly dry. The district of Damerghú must sometimes suffer greatly from drought. The horses and cattle of the village were just coming to be watered; what time and pains it must take to satisfy a whole herd, when we were scarcely able to water our two animals! Passing along through thick underwood, where the “kálgo,” with its large dry leaves of olive hue, and its long red pods similar to those of the kharúb-tree, but much larger, predominated almost exclusively, and leaving the village Maihánkuba on our right, we at last overtook the caravan; for the Ásbenáwa pack-oxen are capable of carrying heavy loads at a very expeditious pace, and in this respect leave far behind them the pack-oxen of the fertile regions of Negroland. We now kept along through the woody region, where the tree “góshi,” with an edible fruit, was most frequent. We encamped in a thickly wooded hollow, when my sociable companion Gajére, as well by the care he took for our evening fire (which he arranged in the most scientific way) as by the information he gave me with regard to the routes leading from Zínder to Kanó, contributed greatly to the comfort and cheerfulness of our bivouac. I first learned from him that there are four different routes from Zínder to Kanó, one route, the westernmost, passing by Dáura; the second, passing by Kazáure; the third, by Garú-n-Gedúnia; the fourth, by Gúmmel (or, as he pronounced it, Gúmiel), gari-n-serki-n-Da-n-Tanóma, this being the easternmost and longest route. Gajére himself was only acquainted with the third route, the stations of which are as follows.
Starting from Zínder, you sleep the first night in Gógo, the second in Mokókia, the third in Zólunzólun, the fourth in Magária, the fifth in Túnfushí, the sixth in Garú-n-Gedúnia, from whence it is three days’ journey to Kanó.
Saturday, Jan. 11.—My people, Gajére, and myself started considerably in advance of the caravan, in order to water the animals at our leisure, and fill the water-skins. It was a beautiful morning, and our march a most pleasant one; a tall sort of grass, called “gámba,” covered the whole ground. Thus we went on cheerfully, passing by a well at present dry, situated in a small hollow, and surrounded with fine trees which were enlivened by numbers of Guinea-fowl and wild pigeons. Beyond this spot the country became more open, and about five miles from the well we reached the pond, or “tébki-n-rúwa Kúdura,” close on the right of our path. It was already partly dried up, and the water had quite a milky colour, from the nature of the ground, which consists of a whitish clay; but during the rainy season, and for some time afterwards, when all the trees which surround it in its dry state stand in the midst of the water, it is of considerable size. There are a great many kálgo-trees here. We also met a small troop of men very characteristic of the country we had entered, being wanton in behaviour and light in dress, having nothing on but short shirts, the colour of which had once been dark blue, and diminutive straw hats, while all their luggage consisted of a small leathern bag with pounded “géro” or millet, some gourd bottles to contain the fura, besides two or three drinking-vessels. One of them, an exceedingly tall fellow, rode a horse scarcely able to carry him, though the cavalier was almost as lean as his Rosinante. Soon afterwards the pond became enlivened by the arrival of a caravan of pack-oxen, everything indicating that we had reached a region where intercourse was easy and continuous.
We remained here nearly two hours, till the “aïri” came up, when we joined it, and soon discovered the reason of their being so long; for in the thick underwood the long strings of camels could not proceed fast, and the stoppages were frequent. We then met another small caravan. At a quarter past four in the afternoon we encamped in a locality called Amsúsu, in the midst of the forest. We were busy pitching the tent, when a body of about sixteen horsemen came up, all dressed in the Tuarek fashion, but plainly indicating their intermixture with the Háusa people by their less muscular frame and by the variety of their dress; and in fact they all belonged to that curious mulatto tribe called Búzu (pl. Búzawe). They were going on a “yáki,” but whether against the Awelímmiden or the Féllani I could not learn at the time; the latter, however, proved to be the case.
The earth hereabouts was filled with a peculiar kind of small worms, which greatly annoyed any person lying on the bare ground, so that I was very fortunate in having my “gadó” with me. A bedstead of some kind is a most necessary piece of furniture for an African traveller, as I have already remarked on a previous occasion; but it should be of a lighter description than my heavy boards, which, notwithstanding their thickness, were soon split, and at length smashed to pieces, in the thick forests through which we often had to pass. Our bivouac in the evening round our fire was exceedingly agreeable, the staid and grave demeanour of my burly and energetic companion imposing even upon the frivolous Mohammed, who at this time behaved much better than usual. Gajére informed me that the direct western road from here to Tasáwa passed by the village Gárari, the pond Úrafa, the well Jíga, and by Birni-n-Tázin, while we were to follow an eastern road. Not far from our encampment, eastward, was a swamp named Tágelel.