BURÉ.
A comparatively quiet reach brought us the next day to the northern point of the island of Buré, probably the Tiburanen of Barth, on the rugged rocks of which a village was picturesquely perched. Opposite to us on the left was a mound with slopes covered with tents, whilst on the summit was drawn up a squadron of Tuaregs ready to defend it, with foot soldiers in the front of the square and the cavalry in the centre. All remained motionless, watching the approach of our boats. We landed on the island, and the negroes, who at first seemed timid, came slowly towards us. Then a canoe, in which were several Tuaregs, crossed the stream, whilst our guides with vehement gestures explained who we were, and what we wanted.
As soon as this was understood the battalion posted on the mound broke up in the twinkling of an eye, and canoes began to ply rapidly to and fro between the left bank of the river and the island, bringing over the Tuaregs, so that we were soon surrounded by a crowd of some three or four hundred men, some Ifoghas, others sheriffs. They had at first been afraid, they said, when they saw our boats, but now they were our best friends. We brought out our little presents, such as rings, bracelets, pipes, and knives, which evoked a perfect delirium of joy. In exchange we received eggs, butter, poultry, and some pretty little leather bags our visitors called abelbodh. We resumed our voyage by the left arm of the stream, which was narrow, and much encumbered with rocks. On the banks were numerous flocks of sheep grazing on the grass and the succulent weeds.
CANOES AT BURÉ.
The whole population followed us as before at Gao, shouting, but now the cries were friendly and pacific. Every time we halted to distribute presents the enthusiasm increased, men, women, and children—the last-named merry little creatures, with wide-awake expressions—flung themselves into the water to fight for a ring or a bit of glass.
FLOCKS AND HERDS AT BURÉ.
Every now and then an important chief would receive what we called a complet, the object of desire of every Tuareg—that is to say, a piece of Guinea or blue cotton cloth nine yards long—five to make the bubu or mantle, and four for the breeches. There is no doubt that our visit will long be remembered, and I hope that the first traveller to succeed us may have as much cause to thank Abd El Kader, as I called myself, as I had to bless the name of Abdul Kerim.
The island of Buré does not belong to the Tuaregs. Strange to say—for the fact is really unique on the Niger between Timbuktu and Sansan Hussa—a Songhay chief, Idris by name, is the real owner. He pays no tribute to Madidu, and though the flocks and herds of the sheriffs and Ifoghas are now grazing on his land, it is only by his permission, and because their owners are in dread of a raid of Kel Avis.