I intended to set out about the end of August; but at that time another sore much larger than the first broke out on the same foot, I suffered considerable pain, and my foot was so swelled that I could not walk. I begged the old negress to procure me some baobab leaves. She boiled them, and I made them into a poultice which I applied to my foot. This allayed the inflammation, and in the course of two days I found myself better. Having no rags for dressing the sore, I was obliged to use for that purpose pieces of the cotton which formed my turban. The old negress did not approve of this: she alleged that it would be better to dispense with the poultices than to destroy such a beautiful piece of cloth. The baobab leaves soon reduced the swelling of my foot; but the sore still continued as large as ever, being twice the size of a six-franc piece. I dressed it with lint which I had already used, and though I washed it, it was not very clean and did me no good. My host, who sympathised in my misfortune, sent one of his slaves to procure a root, which I recognized as having a caustic quality. He boiled it in water until it became tolerably soft, and then bruised a piece with a stone, and made a sort of salve of it. The first day he attended me himself: after washing the wound with the water of the decoction, he spread upon it some of the unctuous paste produced by the root, and then, instead of rag, he bound over it a leaf having a strong aromatic smell. On the following days, the old negress dressed my foot morning and evening, and she often consoled me with the hope of a speedy cure. In gratitude for her attention I made her a present of a piece of coloured cloth, which pleased her exceedingly. She had probably never before possessed any thing so beautiful; her son presently came to thank me, and very seriously asked me who had made the flowers on the cloth. I smiled at his simplicity, and told him that it had been made by the whites. He answered, still preserving his gravity, that he thought none but God could have made any thing so beautiful.
I remained a month in my hut, constantly lying on the damp ground, for I was unable to walk, though I did not suffer very great pain. The month of September seemed to promise a return of fine weather; but appearances were delusive. The rains, to be sure, were not so incessant, but we regularly had rain every day, until October, when it became less frequent. The rain, which poured in torrents, always set in with hurricanes, blowing from the east and south-east. In proportion as the rain diminished the heat increased, and the air became more salubrious. My foot got better, and I hoped to set off about the end of the month. It may well be imagined that I looked forward to the period of my departure with no little anxiety, and notwithstanding all the kindness that I experienced from my old nurse, I was impatient for the moment when I might have the pleasure of bidding her farewell. On market-days I gave her glass trinkets to purchase my weekly supply of rice and foigné, which she made her son’s wives cook for me. She herself brought me twice a day a portion of tau and rice in a wooden platter, and in a little earthen vessel soup made of herbs or pistachio-nuts, to which I added a little salt and vegetable butter, without which these messes would have been scarcely eatable. For a few glass beads, I readily procured vegetable butter, called in the country cé-toulou, which, though collected in abundance, is not much eaten by the inhabitants, as they prefer selling it. This butter is tolerably good; but it is necessary to cook it with the food with which it is eaten, otherwise its flavour is not very agreeable. The natives use it for pains and sores. I have seen in the country a tree, which like the cé produces a butyraceous substance; it is called by the natives taman. The butter of this tree is of a yellow colour, like ours. It is firm, notwithstanding the heat of the climate, and does not contract any bad flavour. I liked it better than the butter of the cé, which is less firm, and of an ash colour. However, the natives assured me that the produce of the cé is more wholesome than that of the taman, and I saw many who would not eat the latter, alleging that it made them ill. For my part, I frequently ate it and never experienced any bad effect from it.
The Mandingoes of this part of Africa have more resources for food than the negroes who inhabit the neighbourhood of the Senegal, who have, in fact nothing but millet. Their food too is better cooked, and, excepting salt, which they have a great deal of trouble to obtain, they possess all that is necessary for supporting life; yams, maize, rice, honey, foigné, beans, giraumons, and pistachios, grow abundantly in this happy land: on the Senegal, on the other hand, all these things are wanting, though salt is easily procured. The expence of cultivation in this part of the country is low. The slaves merely break up the surface of earth, to destroy the weeds, and the seed is then sown. In planting yams, the ground is trenched up, for the root does not thrive well in a level soil. Every thing grows here very rapidly. The soil, which is composed of excellent black sandy mould, is fertilized alternately by the rains and the tropical heat, not less than by the numerous streams which wind through every part of the country; thus the land rewards with interest the labour of the husbandman. The foigné, which is sown during the month of May, is gathered in July. This grain is very useful to the negroes, for it often happens that their supplies of provisions are not sufficient to last them till the following year. They might make two harvests in the course of the year, as is done in Wassoulo, if they were not too indolent. The foigné is abundant throughout the whole of the south. The women take great pains in separating it from extraneous matters. They expose the grain to the heat of the sun, after which they put it into a mortar and clear it from the chaff, which requires considerable time and trouble. The bran is afterwards extracted in the same way, as on the Senegal; the foigné is then pounded a second time, and when the grain is thoroughly cleared, it appears white and of about the coarseness of gunpowder. It is next washed and drained through a basket, in which it is allowed to remain until it swells a little. After this it is again consigned to the mortar, and a few strokes of the pestle suffice to reduce it to flour. If it were not wetted, the process of trituration would require longer time. The flour thus produced is made into a sort of pudding or paste called tau, which is the sangleh of the negroes of the Senegal. When this tau is baked it is put into a calabash, and seasoned with a sauce made of giraumon leaves, various herbs, and allspice; a little gombo is also added to render it glutinous, but neither salt nor butter is used in this sauce. The yams are cooked in a different manner. They are first boiled, and then pounded, and they are eaten with a sauce composed of dried fish reduced to powder, a little gombo, allspice, and zambala, or nédé seeds boiled, dried, and pulverized; which gives them a very agreeable flavour. Though the nédé seeds are very abundant in this country, yet the women use them but sparingly in their cookery, because, to preserve them all the year, they must be steeped in brine, and salt is scarce in this part of Africa. In general the sauces are strongly seasoned with allspice. At meal-times the guests assemble round the dish, and each in his turn takes a handful of yams, rolls it up in his hand, makes a hole in it with his thumb, and dips it into the sauce. When the rice is well cleaned and boiled in water, the cook adds to it a sauce made of pistachios and leaves of Guinea sorrel, but no salt. This article being expensive is used only at festivities, or on occasion of the visits of strangers of consequence. The people themselves are so accustomed to dispense with it, that they cannot feel the want of it as a great privation. Yet they invariably use a little salt whenever they eat meat, and I have heard them say that they would rather postpone their entertainments for a few days than go without salt. When they kill a kid or a sheep, they collect several of their neighbours, but they do not feast together. Each carries away his share to regale himself with his family at home.
The inhabitants of Timé are Mandingoes, and they all make journeys to Jenné. I inquired of them the distance from one city to the other, to ascertain whether they agree on this point with the people of Sambatikila. They all assured me that I required two months to go, and two months to return; but that they could only make two journeys in the course of the year, because they were obliged to travel to Teuté and Cani, a fortnight’s journey to the south of Jenné, to purchase their colats. I also learned that the inhabitants of those villages themselves go very far to the south, to a place called Toman, to procure these colats. On their return they cover them with leaves, and then bury them under ground to preserve them. This fruit may be kept fresh for nine or ten months by taking the precaution to renew the leaves. The colat-tree flourishes in the south; it is very abundant in the Kissi, the Couranco, the Sangaran and the Kissi-kissi. It is a general article of trade in the interior; for the inhabitants, having no kind of fruits, highly esteem the colat, and, indeed, regard it as a sort of luxury. Old men who have lost their teeth reduce the colats to powder by means of a small grater, consisting merely of a bit of tin in which they make holes very close together. The Bambaras are very fond of the colats; but as they have not facility for going to the country where they grow, they purchase them with cotton and other produce of their agricultural industry.
The colat-tree resembles the plum-tree in size and form. The leaves are alternate, and about twice as broad as those of the plum; the flower, which is small and white, has a polypetalous corolla; the fruit is covered with a brownish yellow husk or rind, within which is a pulp, which is at first pink or white; but which, on attaining full maturity acquires a greenish hue. The same tree bears fruit of both colours. The colat-nut is of the size of the chesnut, and of the same degree of hardness. At first it appears to have a bitter taste; but after it is swallowed it leaves a sweet flavour, which the negroes like very much. A glass of water taken immediately after one of these colat nuts, has the effect of having been sugared. The nut easily splits in two without changing its colour; but if one of the two halves be broken and exposed for a moment to the air, the pulp which was previously pink, or white, becomes of a rust colour.
I wished to ascertain the distance from Jenné to Timbuctoo; but nobody could give me any positive information on the subject. The inhabitants seemed to think it immense. Their journeys being merely commercial speculations, they pay little attention to geography, and very often they do not even know the names of the villages which they pass through. The negroes in this part of Africa are not so hospitable as those on the north of the Dhioliba, or even in the neighbourhood of the Senegal. They are generous only among themselves, and if they shew any kindness to strangers it is merely from motives of interest. This I attribute to the numerous caravans which are continually passing through their country, for, if they were to receive and entertain all the strangers who visit them, they would soon be ruined. The merchants purchase their provisions, and get them cooked by the women who follow the caravans. These negroes dress precisely in the same way as those who inhabit the regions further to the north. The dress of the women differs only in the mode of arranging their hair. They generally have their heads uncovered. Some plat their hair and fasten glass beads at the end of each tress; others have merely a tuft of hair at each side of the head; sometimes they take a piece of cotton of the manufacture of the country, about three yards long, and roll it round their heads, bringing it very forward upon the forehead.
About the end of October the rains ceased entirely, the days became exceedingly hot and the nights cool. I observed that the negroes are all extremely subject to take cold, which I attribute to their habit of lying near a great fire in their huts, and then going out thinly clad. My host Baba, who, during the first month of my abode at Timé, had paid me great attention, no doubt on account of the pretty presents which I had made him, began to neglect me. When I was long without giving him any thing, he was constantly begging of me and manifesting his ill-humour. On the other hand I was tormented by the women, who came in crowds to ask me for glass beads. I was at once an object of curiosity and aversion to them. They ridiculed my gestures and my words, and went about the village mimicking me and repeating what I said. Their gossip attracted fresh visiters to my hut; in short, from morning till night they were before my door, and when I went out I was followed by a troop of women who called after me in their own language—“The Arab is not good, he does not give us any thing”—(Larab-magné atemo-oço). Sometimes I got rid of them by giving them a few glass beads; but they soon renewed their attack. During the first month I was not molested in this way; but, when they became better acquainted with me, they grew intolerably troublesome. My sore foot was the object of their ridicule, and the difficulty I experienced in walking excited their immoderate laughter. Such are the beings among whom I was obliged to live. Their treatment of me arose not so much from any bad feeling as from stupidity and ignorance, for they are little better than savages. When I occasionally asked such of the women as most tormented me for water, they would hasten to fetch it for me. The men were not more hospitable than the women. If they did not amuse themselves at my expense they reproached me for giving them nothing. I told them that I had a long journey to perform before I could reach Mecca, and that the little stock of merchandise which I had would, perhaps, be insufficient to pay my expenses thither, in which case I should be unable to proceed. They did not appear to be moved by these representations, but, pointing to my woollen wrapper and my leather bag, they said—“Look there, you have a wrapper and a bag full of stuff and different merchandise. The Arab does not give us any thing; he is not good”—(Mi casa fani abeyan nanfoulo abé. Larab featemo—oço amagné.) They entertain extravagant ideas of the wealth of the whites, and even of the Arabs, whom they rank in the same class; and hence they conclude that a white man travelling through their country ought to make them liberal presents. I saw a Mandingo of the village, who had been several times at Gambia and at Albreda. He spoke of a Mr. Waterman, a merchant at Gambia, and of M. Jaffrot, of Albreda. He complained bitterly of the want of generosity shewn by the whites, who, he said, had large warehouses full of merchandise and yet gave away very little. This negro excited the curiosity of his countrymen, who assembled round him to hear him describe the wonders which he had seen on the coast. To convey to his hearers an idea of the large size of the houses of the whites, he compared them to ten or twelve mosques like that of Kankan, which, as I have already mentioned is a square unsightly building, capable of containing about three hundred persons. He described in glowing terms the way in which the Europeans dress and eat, which greatly astonished the simple negroes, who imagined that there were no other dresses than theirs in the world, and that the custom of eating with the fingers was universal. When I first arrived at Timé, I was frequently visited by a negro who asked me a thousand questions respecting the way in which I had been fed by the christians. He used to seat himself very close to me, and often upon my baggage, and on my manifesting displeasure at this, he withdrew somewhat out of humour, declaring that I was a christian. He, doubtless, hoped to make me purchase his silence on this subject; but as he was the only one who troubled me in this way, I was resolved that he should gain nothing by his insolence. I was a stranger, but under the protection of the almamy of Sambatikila, which, I suppose, inspired a sort of respect. The old negress continued very attentive to me, and I therefore promised to make her a handsome present at my departure, and in the mean time, I occasionally gave her a few glass ornaments.
By the 10th of November the sore in my foot was almost healed, and I hoped to profit by the first opportunity of setting out for Jenné. But, alas! at that very time, violent pains in my jaw informed me that I was attacked with scurvy, and I soon experienced all the horrors of that dreadful disease: the roof of my mouth became quite bare, a part of the bones exfoliated and fell away, and my teeth seemed ready to drop out of their sockets. I feared that my brain would be affected by the agonizing pains I felt in my head, and I was more than a fortnight without sleep. To crown my misery, the sore in my foot broke out afresh, and all hope of my departure vanished. The horror of my situation may be more easily imagined than described,—alone, in the interior of a wild country, stretched on the damp ground, with no pillow but the leather bag which contained my luggage, with no medicine and no attendant but Baba’s old mother. This good creature brought me twice a-day a little rice-water, which she forced me to drink; for I could eat nothing. I was soon reduced to a skeleton, and my situation was so deplorable that at length I excited pity even in those who were least disposed to feel for me.
Suffering had deprived me of all energy. One thought alone absorbed my mind—that of death. I wished for it, and I prayed for it to God, in whom I reposed all my confidence, not in the hope of cure, for that I had relinquished; but in the hope of another and a happier state. This was the only consolation I experienced during my long sufferings, and for that I was indebted to the religious principles which I had imbibed during the numerous adversities of my wandering life: for, we are so constituted that it is often only in misfortune, and when bereft of friends, that we turn for consolation to that God who never withholds it.
At length, after six weeks of indescribable suffering, during which time I subsisted solely on boiled rice and water, I began to feel better and to reflect on what was passing around me. I scarcely ever saw Baba. I could easily perceive that I was a trouble to him and his family, and that they were tired of the burthen of a man who was continually ill. The presents which I had been obliged to make them every now and then were rapidly exhausting my means, and my baggage was becoming so scanty that I feared I should not have sufficient merchandise to complete my journey; for, ill as I was, I did not now renounce the idea of continuing it. I would rather have died on the road than have returned without making more important discoveries. I reflected on the best means of proceeding to the Niger, where I might hope to embark for Timbuctoo, the mysterious city which was the object of all my curiosity. I never for a moment reproached myself for the resolution which had brought me to these deserts, where I had suffered so much misery. I saw with regret the fine season advancing. The roads were passable and the marshes dried up, and every thing concurred to make me regret the time I was losing at Timé. Finding that I did not get better, Baba was moved with compassion and came to see me. He sat down by me, and, after inquiring how I was, he told me that he would bring me an old woman who understood my disorder. I thanked him for his kindness. The old woman came: she examined me attentively, and consoled me by saying that she would give me a medicine which would do me good, and that I should soon be quite well. She added that my disorder was common in the country, and that people who were attacked by it lost all their teeth if remedies were not promptly applied.