Great African Travellers: From Mungo Park to Livingstone and Stanley

by William Henry Giles Kingston

On arriving at the next place he found that his companions had gone on without him, but he fell in, the following day, with two negroes going to Sego, who afforded him their company.

In the village through which he passed he was constantly taken for a Moor. The people jeered at him, laughing at his tattered and forlorn appearance. He, however, again overtook the Kaartans, who promised to introduce him to the king.

As they were riding along over some marshy ground, and he was anxiously looking around for the river which he now supposed to be near, one of his companions called out, “Geo affilli!” (“See water!”) and, looking forward, he saw with infinite pleasure the great object of his mission—the long-sought-for majestic Niger, glittering in the morning sun, as broad as the Thames at Westminster, and flowing slowly to the east. He hastened to the brink, and having drunk of the water, offered up his fervent thanks in prayer to the Great Ruler of all things for having thus far crowned his endeavours with success.

Sego, the capital of Bambarra—at which he had now arrived—consists, properly speaking, of four distinct towns: two on the north and two on the south bank of the Niger. They are surrounded by high mud walls. The houses are built of clay, of a square form with flat roofs—some of them of two stories, and many of them are whitewashed. Moorish mosques are seen in every quarter; and the streets, though narrow, are broad enough for every useful purpose in a country where wheel-carriages are unknown. It contains about thirty thousand inhabitants.

While waiting to cross the river, a messenger arrived, informing him that the king could not possibly see him until he knew what had brought him into the country, and that he must not venture to cross the river without his majesty’s permission. He was directed to pass the night in a distant village; but when he reached it, no one would admit him. He was regarded with astonishment and fear, and was obliged to sit all day without food in the shade of a tree. He fully expected to have to pass the night in the same place; but about sunset, after he had turned his horse loose, a woman, perceiving that he was weary and dejected, enquired into his situation. Casting looks of pity upon him, she took up his saddle and bridle, and told him to follow her. Having conducted him into her hut, she lighted her lamp, spread a mat on the floor and signified that he might remain there for the night. Finding that he was very hungry, she brought him a fine fish for supper. Having thus attended to the stranger, telling him that he might sleep in safety she called her women around her and desired them to resume their task of spinning cotton, in which they continued to employ themselves the greater part of the night, lightening their labours by songs, some of which had reference to their white visitor.

Several days passed, when a messenger arrived from Mansong with a bag in his hands. He told Park that it was his Majesty’s pleasure he should forthwith depart from the neighbourhood of Sego, but that the king, wishing to relieve a white man in distress, had sent him five thousand cowries. From the conversation Park had with the guide, he ascertained that Mansong would willingly have seen him, but that he was apprehensive of being unable to protect him against the blind and inveterate malice of the Moorish inhabitants. His conduct, therefore, was at once prudent and liberal.

He was the same evening conducted to a village about seven miles to the eastward, where he was well received. His guide told him that if Jenne was really the place of his destination, the journey was one of greater danger than he might suppose; for, although that town was nominally a part of the King of Bambarra’s dominions, it was in fact a city of the Moors—the chief part of the inhabitants being Bushreens, a fanatical Mahommedan sect. He heard, too, that Timbuctoo, the great object of his search, was entirely in possession of that savage and merciless people, who allow no Christian to live there. He had, however, advanced too far to think of returning with uncertain information, and he determined to proceed.

Being provided with a guide, he left the village on the morning of the 24th, travelling through a highly cultivated country, the scenery bearing a greater resemblance to that of England than he had expected to find in the middle of Africa.

The people were everywhere employed in collecting the fruit of the shea trees, from which they prepared vegetable butter. In the evening he reached the large town of Sansanding, the resort of numerous Moorish caravans from the shores of the Mediterranean. In the harbour he observed twenty large canoes, and others arrived while he was there. He was received into the house of the dooty, Counti Mamadi. Scarcely had he arrived when hundreds of people surrounded him, all speaking different dialects, several of them declaring that they had seen him in various parts of the continent. It was evident that they mistook him for somebody else. One of them, a shereef, from Suat, declared that if he refused to go to the mosque he would carry him there. He had little doubt that the Moor would have put his threat into execution had not his host interposed in his behalf. The latter said that, if he would let his guest alone for the night, in the morning he should be sent about his business. This somewhat appeased them, but even after he had retired to his hut the people climbed over the pailings to look at him.

At midnight, when the Moors had retired, Mamadi paid him a visit and earnestly desired him to write a saphie, or charm, observing, “If a Moor’s saphie is good, a white man’s must needs be better.” Park readily furnished him with one, which was in reality the Lord’s Prayer, a reed serving for a pen, charcoal and gum-water for ink and a thin board for paper.