A small quantity of very handsome cloth is manufactured in this neighbourhood, from cotton purchased from the Bambaras. The average price of a slave in these parts is thirty bricks of salt (a brick is ten inches long, three wide, and two or two and a half thick: there are larger and smaller bricks, and the value varies accordingly) a barrel of powder and eight parcels of beads of a bright chesnut colour; or, a gun and four yards of rose-coloured taffeta are also the price of a slave. The trade of Sambatikila is not brisk; and is far from equal to that of Kankan; the want of a market injures it greatly, and the inhabitants are poor. Their crops are not sufficient to last from one year to the next, and they are forced to buy rice from the Bambaras, paying for it with salt, which the others cannot procure in any other way. The Mandingoes would rather go without food part of the day than work in the fields; they pretend that labour would take off their attention from the Koran, which is a very specious excuse for their laziness.
Their flocks, which are not numerous, consist of sheep and goats; they also rear poultry; the few horses they have are of a very small breed. The son of the almamy with whom I lodged had performed several journeys to Jenné; he told me without any fear of compromising his dignity, that he had carried a load of colat-nuts on his head, as well as his companions. I questioned him as to the length of the journey; and he told me that it took two months and a half or three months to get thither, and that it was not possible to make more than two journeys in a year.
The title of almamy, or king, is hereditary; the eldest son of the sovereign always succeeds. He has usually four wives and a great number of children. He is the only chief at Sambatikila, and if disputes arise the elders assemble at the almamy’s house, or at the mosque, to administer justice. Guns are not as common in this village as at Kankan, for I saw nothing but bows and arrows hanging up in the houses which I visited.
About ten in the morning, we commenced our journey; Arafanba, the two saracolets, and the Foulah, conducted me as far as the bank of a rivulet, which the natives call Oulaba, and which waters the neighbourhood of Sambatikila; we crossed in a wretched canoe, which was nearly upset more than once: it was made out of a single tree, but was now old, broken, and patched with pieces of rotten pagne, which would not keep out the water; fortunately the stream was not very wide, and we arrived at the right bank without accident. Arafanba accompanied me for a mile, and parted from me with great regret, after charging my guide to take care of me. Arafanba was the most amiable and agreeable Mandingo I had seen; and (what even now surprises me when I think of it) he never asked me for any thing, and appeared quite contented with the very moderate present which my means allowed me to make. We travelled E.S.E. for two miles, over a very fine black mould, intermingled with gravel; I saw only a few poor fields of foigné not yet in flower, though the harvest was over in Wassoulo; we crossed a tottering bridge, and arrived at Cagnanso, a little walled village which we did not enter. I noticed a shop belonging to some smiths, who were not better lodged than those which were on the coast; they make, however, agricultural implements, poniards, bracelets, and barbs for their arrows; the iron they use comes from Fouta-Dhialon. The environs of this village, which are inhabited by Bambaras, are uncultivated, but thickly studded with large trees, and covered with straw, which last impeded my progress greatly, causing me terrible pain, by fretting my wound and rubbing off the plaster; this, added to the water which covered the roads, and the rain which fell in torrents, fatigued me extremely. I longed to find a shelter where I might rest myself; we nevertheless continued our journey towards the S.S.E. After walking seven miles, we passed Coro, another walled Bambara village, which contains about four or five hundred inhabitants; the environs are no better cultivated than those of Cagnanso. We proceeded six miles further to the south; the country is woody and flat, and the road covered with gravel, which rendered walking very fatiguing. I saw no signs of cultivation, and we crossed several marshes. About three o’clock we halted, thoroughly fatigued, at Timicoro, a small Bambara village. The environs are woody, and covered with high straw; the fields are five or six miles from the huts, whether on account of the soil being better, or to save the grain from the ravages of goats and poultry, I know not. My guide took me to the house of one of his acquaintance, who supplied us with a small, damp, and dirty lodging. I had a good fire lighted immediately to dry my coussabe and my breeches; for the rain had been pelting at our backs all day; it continued through the night, and it was a small constant rain, which rendered the air cold. At this village I saw many goats and fowls, but the inhabitants have no horned cattle. At nightfall, the men came home from work; they were all nearly naked, having nothing but a tight cotton band which they pass between their thighs. I remarked that these men had necklaces on their necks, ear-rings of glass beads, and a great many amulets, such as goat’s horns, sheep’s tails, &c. All these things supply the place of grigris, in which they have great faith. They gave us a supper of tau, with herb-sauce, but no salt; I ate a little of this dish, but the sauce was so bad that I could not relish it.
In the evening a dispute arose between two men of the village, who began to fight, and would even have used their poniards, if the inhabitants had not collected round them to make peace. Nothing was heard but the shrieks of the women, who made great lamentations, and the crowd was immense; all spoke at once, and shouted to make themselves heard, so that there was a tremendous uproar. My guide informed me, that the chief of the village was blind, otherwise he would have come to the spot and restored order. I never could learn what was the cause of this scuffle, which took place precisely in the court where we lodged, and lasted a very long time, though the rain was pouring in torrents.
On the 3rd of August, in the morning, my guide cooked a small yam on the coals, and I roasted a few pistachio-nuts, which we ate together; after having presented our host with some small glass beads, we proceeded on our journey; it was then about nine o’clock. It still rained hard, and my umbrella was of little use, because the high grass, and the bushes which covered the road, wetted me as much as the rain. We travelled towards the south; at some distance from Timicoro, I saw a few poor fields of foigné and yams in a bad state of cultivation; the owners had not even taken the trouble to grub up the bushes. We passed the village of Yango-Firé, situated near a rivulet, where I saw plenty of poultry. We proceeded at first to the south, and then towards the east. We passed Brokhosso; to the S.E. of which I perceived a large hill, which appeared to be entirely destitute of vegetation. After crossing some fields of foigné, and others of french-beans, the first that I had seen since I left the coast, we arrived about half-past one in the afternoon, at the neat little village of Timé, inhabited by Mandingo Mahometans; it is shaded by a number of enormous bombaces, and by a few baobabs; we had travelled about ten miles. Three or four miles to the east of Timé, we noticed a chain of mountains, which were probably eighteen hundred or two thousand feet high; this range stretches from north to east. That which faces the village is more elevated, and covered with fine vegetation, except on the summit, which is very bare.
CHAPTER XII.
Abode at Timé. — Weekly market. — The traveller falls seriously ill of the scurvy. — Is nursed by a negress. — Rainy season. — The author prevented from joining the caravan departing for Jenné. — Fertility of the neighbourhood of Timé. — Desperate condition of the traveller. — His recovery after four months’ illness. — Description of a funeral.
My guide conducted me to the residence of his brother, who was from home; but a good old negress, who, judging from her wrinkled countenance, must have been sixty years of age, received me into her hut. She spread a bullock’s hide upon the ground for me to sit on, and gave me some soup, consisting of herbs stewed in milk, and seasoned with salt; I could not eat much, for I was feverish and had shivering fits. I lay down on a mat near the fire (it was the old negress’s bed) and fell asleep; but the master of the house arrived, and I was soon roused. He appeared very kind, and gave me some yams, to which he had taken care to add some salt. He then took my bag, saying he would conduct me to the chief of the village, a venerable old man of the tribe of the Bambaras, but professing the religion of Mahomet. The chief received me very well, and made me sit down on a bullock’s hide, near a good fire, which kept his hut free from damp. The brother of my guide, who had conducted me to the chief, was his son. The old man informed me that I must remain with him until the departure of the caravan, which was shortly to set out for Jenné. I therefore returned to the humble dwelling of Baba’s old mother. Alas! little did I think how long I was doomed to be her guest. I gave the good old negress a piece of raw meat, of which the chief had made me a present on my visit to him, and requested her to cook it for my supper. On tasting it I discovered it to be the flesh of the wild boar. I manifested some repugnance to eating it, and began to fear I should compromise myself; but my young guide from Sambatikila, who was less scrupulous, advised me to follow his example, assuring me that the meat was very good. The Mandingoes, notwithstanding their superstition, do not scruple to eat the flesh of the wild boar, though expressly forbidden in the Koran. My host sent me for supper some yams with a fowl, which he had just killed as a treat for us on our arrival.