Each village has its own mayor, who decides petty matters, and is responsible for the tax payable within his jurisdiction. The king, or paramount chief, has the power of life and death, and there is no appeal from his sentence to the ruler of Marádi. However, he cannot venture to carry into effect any measure of consequence without asking the opinion of his privy council, or at least that of the ghaladíma or prime minister, some account of whose office I shall have an opportunity of giving in the course of my narrative. The little territory of Tasáwa might constitute a very happy state if the inhabitants were left in quiet; but they are continually harassed by predatory expeditions, and even last evening, while we were encamped here, the Féllani drove away a small herd of ten calves from the neighbouring village of Kálbo.
About noon the “salt” of the serkí-n-Kél-owí arrived with the people of Olalówa, as well as that of Sálah Lúsu’s head man, who before had always been in advance of us. In the evening I might have fancied myself a prince, for I had a splendid supper, consisting of a fowl or two, while a solitary maimólo cheered me with a performance on his simple three-stringed instrument, which, however monotonous, was still expressive of much feeling, and accompanied with a song in my praise.
Wednesday, Jan. 15.—At the very dawn of day, to my great astonishment, I was called out of the tent by Mohammed, who told me that Fárraji, Lúsu’s man, our companion from Ghát, had suddenly arrived from Zínder with three or four Bórnu horsemen, and had express orders with regard to me. However, when I went out to salute him, he said nothing of his errand, but simply told me that he wanted first to speak to Elaíji, the chief of the caravan. I therefore went to the latter myself to know what was the matter, and learnt from the old man that though he was not able to make out all the terms of the letters of which Fárraji was the bearer, one of which was written by the sheríf, and the other by Lúsu, he yet understood that the horsemen had come with no other purpose but to take me and Overweg to Zínder, without consulting our wishes, and that the sheríf as well as Lúsu had instructed him to send us off in company with these fellows, but that they had also a letter for Ánnur, who ought to be consulted. As for himself, the old man (well aware of the real state of affairs, and that the averment of a letter having arrived from the consul at Tripoli, to the effect that till further measures were taken with regard to our recent losses we ought to stay in Bórnu, was a mere sham and fabrication) declared that he would not force us to do anything against our inclination, but that we ought to decide ourselves what was best to be done.
Having, therefore, a double reason for going to Tasáwa, I set out as early as possible, accompanied by my faithless, wanton Tunisian shushán, and by my faithful, sedate Tageláli overseer. The path leading through the suburbs of Gozenákko was well fenced, in order to prevent any violation of property; whereas on the western side of the village there was scarcely any cultivated ground, and we soon entered upon a wilderness where the “dúmmia” and the “karása” were the principal plants, when, after a march of a little more than three miles, the wild thicket again gave way to cultivated fields, and the town of Tasáwa appeared in the distance, or rather (as is generally the case in these countries, where the dwellings are so low, and where almost all the trees round the towns are cut down, for strategical as well as economical reasons) the fine shady trees in the interior of the town were seen, which make it a very cheerful place. After two miles more, we reached the suburbs, and, crossing them, kept along the outer ditch which runs round the stockade of the town, in order to reach Al Wáli’s house, under whose special protection I knew that Mr. Overweg had placed himself.
My friend’s quarters, into which we were shown, were very comfortable, although rather narrow. They consisted of a courtyard, fenced with mats made of reeds, and containing a large shed, or “runfá,” likewise built of mats and stalks, and a tolerably spacious hut, the walls built of clay (“bángo”), but with a thatched roof (“shíbki”). The inner part of it was guarded by a cross wall from the prying of indiscreet eyes.
Overweg was not a little surprised on hearing the recent news, and we sent for el Wákhshi, our Ghadámsi friend from Tin-téggana, in order to consult him, as one who had long resided in these countries, and who, we had reason to hope, would be uninfluenced by personal considerations. He firmly pronounced his opinion that we ought not to go, and afterwards, when Fárráji called Mánzo and Al Wáli to his aid, entered into a violent dispute with these men, who advised us to go; but he went too far in supposing that the letter had been written with a malicious intention. For my part, I could well imagine that the step was authorized by the Sheikh of Bórnu, or at least by his vizier, who might have heard long ago of our intention to go to Kanó, as it had been even Mr. Richardson’s intention to go there, which indeed he ought to have done in conformity with his written obligations to Mohammed eʾ Sfáksi; they might therefore have instructed the sheríf to do what he might think fit to prevent us from carrying out our purpose. However, it seemed not improbable that Lúsu had something to do with the affair. But it was absolutely necessary for Mr. Overweg and myself, or for one of us at least, to go to Kanó, as we had several debts to pay, and were obliged to sell the little merchandise we had with us, in order to settle our affairs.
We were still considering the question, when we were informed that our old protector the chief Ánnur had just arrived from Zínder; and I immediately determined to go to see him in his own domain at Náchira, situated at a little more than a mile north-east from Tasáwa. In passing through the town I crossed the market-place, which at that time, during the hot hours of the day, was very well frequented, and presented a busy scene of the highest interest to a traveller emerging from the desert, and to which the faint sparks of life still to be observed in Ágades cannot be compared. A considerable number of cattle were offered for sale, as well as six camels, and the whole market was surrounded by continuous rows of runfás or sheds; but provisions and ready-dressed food formed the staple commodity, and scarcely anything of value was to be seen. On leaving the town I entered an open country covered with stubble-fields, and soon reached that group of Náchira where the chief had fixed his quarters. In front of the yard was a most splendid tamarind-tree, such as I had not yet seen. Leaving my horse in its shade, I entered the yard, accompanied by Gajére, and looked about for some time for the great man, when at length we discovered him under a small shed, or runfá, of a conical form, so low that we had passed it without noticing the people collected in its shade. There he lay, surrounded by his attendants, as was his custom in general when reposing in the daytime, with no clothing but his trousers, while his shirt, rolled up, formed a pillow to rest his left arm upon. He did not seem to be in the best humour—at least he did not say a single cheerful word to me; and though it was the very hottest time of the day, he did not offer me as much as a draught of water. I had expected to be treated to a bowl of well-soaked “fura” seasoned with cheese. But what astonished me more than his miserly conduct (which was rather familiar to me) was that I learned from his own mouth that he had not been to Zínder at all, whither we had been assured he had accompanied Mr. Richardson, but that he had spent all the time in Tágelel, from which place he had now come direct. I was therefore the more certain that Lúsu had some part in the intrigues. Ánnur, who had not yet received the letter addressed to him from Zínder, knew nothing about it, and merely expressed his surprise that such a letter had been written, without adding another word.
Seeing the old chief in a very cheerless humour, I soon left him, and took a ramble with Gajére over the place. The estate is very extensive, and consists of a great many clusters of huts scattered over the fields, while isolated dúm-palms give to the whole a peculiar feature. The people, all followers and mostly domestic slaves of Ánnur, seemed to live in tolerable ease and comfort, as far as I was able to see, my companion introducing me into several huts. Indeed, every candid person, however opposed to slavery he may be, must acknowledge that the Tuarek in general, and particularly the Kél-owí, treat their slaves not only humanely, but even with the utmost indulgence and affability, and scarcely let them feel their bondage at all. Of course there are exceptions, as the cruelty of yoking slaves to a plough, and driving them on with a whip (which I had witnessed in Aúderas), is scarcely surpassed in any of the Christian slave-states; but these exceptions are extremely rare.
When I returned from my ramble, Mr. Overweg had also arrived, and the old chief had received the letter; and though neither he nor any of his people could read it, he was fully aware of its contents, and disapproved of it entirely, saying that we should act freely, and according to the best of our knowledge. I then returned with my countryman into the town, and remained some time with him. In front of his dwelling was encamped the natron caravan of Al Wáli, which in a few days was to leave for Núpe, or (as the Háusa people say) Nýffi. We shall have to notice very frequently this important commerce, which is carried on between the shores of the Tsád and Nýffi.
I left the town at about five o’clock, and feeling rather hungry on reaching the encampment in Gozenákko, to the great amusement of our neighbours, parodying the usual salute of “Iná labári” (What is the news?) I asked my people immediately the news of our cooking-pot, “Iná labári-n-tokónia” (What news of the pot?) I was greatly pleased with my day’s excursion, for Tasáwa was the first large place of Negroland proper which I had seen, and it made the most cheerful impression upon me, as manifesting everywhere the unmistakable marks of the comfortable, pleasant sort of life led by the natives: the courtyard fenced with a “dérne” of tall reeds, excluding to a certain degree the eyes of the passer-by, without securing to the interior absolute secrecy; then near the entrance the cool shady place of the “runfá,” for ordinary business and for the reception of strangers, and the “gída,” partly consisting entirely of reed (“dáki-n-kára”) of the best wickerwork, partly built of clay in its lower parts (“bóngo”), while the roof consists of reeds only (“shíbki”), but of whatever material it may consist, it is warm and well adapted for domestic privacy, the whole dwelling shaded with spreading trees, and enlivened with groups of children, goats, fowls, pigeons, and, where a little wealth had been accumulated, a horse or a pack-ox.