“Look!” cried the reformer, “look at that old man weeping; follow his example, for Allah has touched his heart.”
Then the poor old fellow, the tears still rolling down his cheeks, said in a choked and broken voice, “No, Modibo, no, you have read my heart wrongly; when I saw you holding forth so vehemently, and shaking your grey beard, you reminded me of my old goat which I left at home in my hut to follow you. That is what made me sob,” and he went on weeping.
A YOUNG GIRL AT FORT ARCHINARD.
This anecdote, which loses much of its piquancy in translation, is very typical of the character of the nomad Fulahs, illustrating as it does their combined fanaticism and self-interest.
As I have said, we were all quite won over by the behaviour of Tayoro and Modibo Konna, when one fine evening, after the lesson in Tuareg was over, Suleyman the interpreter came to seek me, and said point-blank: “Commandant, all these people are only making game of you. Tierno Abdulaye, the Arabic translator, who is a mischievous fellow, saw that old Modibo Konna is an old gossip who can’t keep a secret, and as he wanted to know all about Galadio and the rest of them, he said to him, ‘What, will you Modibos, good Mussulmans, true believers, take part against Amadu, against the son of El Hadji Omar?—and your chief Galadio, is he likely to take the side of the French? I, Tierno Abdulaye, am with them because I can’t help myself, but my heart is with the Toucouleurs, my fellow-countrymen. If it came to a fight, I should be the first to desert. True Mussulmans could not really consort with Kaffirs!’
“‘All in good time!’ answered Modibo Konna. ‘At least I shall find somebody to talk to, meanwhile. Do you really suppose that we were ever, in good faith, the allies of the commandant? Why, Galadio is Amadu’s best friend; he it was who helped him to reach the left bank. Tayoro and I are only here as spies, to prevent the French from doing harm, such as attacking Dunga or Say. As soon as you arrived Ibrahim realized that it would be best to seem friendly with you. He even reproached Amadu Saturu for refusing your hospitality, because they would have been able to keep an eye on you better at Say. By adopting this attitude towards you, we have got presents, Kaffirs are always lawful prey, whilst the rest of the natives have got nothing. As for me, Modibo Konna, I was recalled from Dunga, where I was looking after Ibrahim’s affairs and sent here. When I go back I shall return to Dunga to report all I have seen. Do you suppose for one moment that a marabout such as Ibrahim would ever be false to the true religion?’”
The whole secret of the plot against us was now revealed. Galadio, distrusting the old gossip, had merely sent Tayoro, the clever diplomatist, with him to see that he did not talk nonsense. For four whole months they had all been fooling us, with very considerable address, it must be admitted. However, the duplicity with which we had been treated all this time had one good result—we had had the pleasure of imagining that we had at least one good friend in the country on whom we could rely, and this thought had been good for the morale of our men, for it is not at all inspiriting to feel completely isolated in a strange land. Even if it is all a delusion, it is consoling to fancy oneself liked and respected.
The end of it all might however have been very different. Horses had been sent for me to go to Galadio’s camp, and if I had started, accompanied by Father Hacquart and a few men, we might have been murdered by the way. Maybe Galadio would have been afraid of immediate reprisals; maybe he would have hesitated to commit a crime which would have compromised him for the future; or perhaps, even he was, after all, too good a fellow to injure those who were coming to him as guests.
This was the last scene of the comedy in which we took part at Fort Archinard. We had now to begin to think seriously of starting again, as we had already long before announced that we should go on September 15. We had bought our stores of grain, and our barges were once more in a state of repair. The information we had received about the river was to the effect that it was now navigable again. We were all busy repacking our stuffs and knick-knacks, and were eager to be off.