Chapter I: From Tunis to Tripoli (11)

With regard to our provisions, Overweg and I were at first rather ill off, while Mr. Richardson, although he had been obliged to supply food on the road to troops both of friends and foes, had still a small remnant of the considerable stores which he had laid in at Múrzuk. We had been led to expect that we should find no difficulty in procuring all necessaries, and even a few luxuries, in Ásben (and carriage was so dear that we were obliged to rely upon these promises); but we were now sadly disappointed. After a few days, however, the inhabitants being informed that we were in want of provisions, and were ready to buy, brought us small quantities of Guinea corn, butter—the botta (or box made of rough hide, in the way common over almost the whole of Central Africa) for two or two and a half mithkáls,—and even a little fresh cheese; we were also able to buy two or three goats, and by sending Ibrahím, who had now recovered from his guineaworm, to Ásodi, where provisions are always stored up in small quantities, we obtained a tolerable camel-load of durra or sorghum.

But I could not relish this grain at all, and as I was not able to introduce any variety into my diet, I suffered much; hence it was fortunate for me that I went to Ágades, where my food was more varied, and my health consequently improved. I afterwards became accustomed to the various preparations of sorghum and _Pennisetum_, particularly the asída or túvo, and found that no other food is so well adapted for a hot climate; but it requires a great deal of labour to prepare it well, and this of course is a difficult matter for a European traveller, who has no female slave or partner to look after his meals. Our food during our stay in Ásben was so ill-prepared (being generally quite bitter, owing to the husk not being perfectly separated from the grain) that no native of the country would taste it.

Meanwhile my negotiation with the chief, with regard to my going to Ágades, which I managed as silently and secretly as possible, went on prosperously; and on the 30th of September I took my leave of him, having with me on the occasion a present for himself, worth about eighty riyáls, or eleven pounds sterling, and the presents intended for the sultan of Ágades, in order that he might see what they were and express his opinion upon them; and I was greatly pleased to find that he was satisfied with both. He promised me perfect safety, although the undertaking looked a little dangerous, and had a letter written to ʿAbd el Káder (or, in the popular form, Kádiri—this was the name of the new sultan), wherein he recommended me to him in the strongest terms, and enumerated the presents I meant to offer to him.

But as soon as my intention transpired, all the people, uninvited as well as invited, hastened to give me their best advice, and to dissuade me from embarking in an undertaking which would certainly be my ruin. Conspicuous among these motley counsellors was a son of Háj ʿAbdúwa, the presumptive heir of Ánnur, who conjured me to abandon my design. These people, indeed, succeeded in frightening Yusuf Mákni, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter, whom the latter wished to send with me; but as for myself, I knew what I was about, and had full confidence in the old chief’s promise, and was rather glad to get rid of Mákni, whom I well knew to be a clever, but no less malicious and intriguing person. With difficulty I persuaded Mohammed, our Tunisian shushán, to accompany me; and I also succeeded in hiring Amánkay, Mr. Richardson’s active black Búzu servant, who, however, on this trip proved utterly useless, as we had no sooner set out than he began to suffer from his old complaint of guineaworm, and was the whole time too lame for service.

I then arranged with Hámma, Ánnur’s son-in-law, under whose especial protection I was to undertake my journey, but whom I had to pay separately. I gave him the value of eleven mithkals, or about one pound sterling, for himself, and hired from him two camels, each for six mithkáls. After various delays, which, however, enabled me to send off two more of my journals, together with letters, to Múrzuk, by the hand of a half-caste Kél-owí of the name of Báwa Amákita, our departure was definitively fixed for the 4th of October.

[Footnote 135: The little trifles which we gave him occasionally are scarcely worth mentioning.]

[Footnote 136: That part of my information which regarded the topography of the country, and which I forwarded during our stay there, has unfortunately been lost.]

CHAP. XVI.

JOURNEY TO ÁGADES.

[Sidenote: Friday, October 4th.]

At length the day arrived when I was to set out on my long-wished-for excursion to Ágades. For although at that time I was not aware of the whole extent of interest attaching to that place, it had nevertheless been to me a point of the strongest attraction. For what can be more interesting than a considerable town, said to have been once as large as Tunis, situated in the midst of lawless tribes, on the border of the desert and of the fertile tracts of an almost unknown continent, established there from ancient times, and protected as a place of rendezvous and commerce between nations of the most different character, and having the most various wants. It is by mere accident that this town has not attracted as much interest in Europe as her sister town Timbúktu.

It was a fine morning with a healthy and refreshing light breeze, invigorating both body and mind. The old chief, who had never before visited our encampment, now came out to pay us his compliments, assuring me once more, that “my safety rested upon his head.” But his heart was so gladdened at witnessing our efforts to befriend the other great men of his country, that his habitual niggardliness was overcome, and with graceful hospitality he resigned one of his bullocks to our party.

The little caravan I was to accompany consisted of six camels, five and thirty asses, and two bullocks, one of which was allotted to me, till my protector Hámma should be able to hire a camel for me. But although well accustomed to ride on horseback as well as on a camel, I had never yet in my life tried to sit astride on the broad back of a bullock; and the affair was the more difficult as there was no saddle, nor anything to sit upon, except parcels of luggage not very tightly fastened to the animal’s back, and swinging from one side to the other.

After the first bullock had been rejected, as quite unfit, in its wild, intractable mood, to carry me, or indeed anything else, and when it had been allowed to return to the herd, the second was at length secured, the luggage fastened somehow on his back, and I was bid to mount. I must truly confess that I should have been better pleased with a horse, or even an ass; but still, hoping to manage matters, I took my seat, and, bidding my fellow-travellers farewell, followed my black companions up the broad valley by which we had come from the north. But we soon left it and ascended the rocky ground, getting an interesting view of the broad and massive Mount Eghellál before us.

Having at first thought my seat rather too insecure for making observations, I grew by degrees a little more confident, and, taking out my compass, noted the direction of the road, when suddenly the baggage threatened to fall over to the right, whereupon I threw the whole weight of my body to the left, in order to keep the balance; but I unluckily overdid it, and so all at once down I came, with the whole baggage. The ground was rocky; and I should inevitably have been hurt not a little, if I had not fallen upon the muzzle of my musket, which I was carrying on my shoulder, and which being very strong, sustained the shock, and kept my head from the ground. Even my compass, which I had open in my left hand, most fortunately escaped uninjured; and I felt extremely glad that I had fallen so adroitly, but vowed never again to mount a bullock.

I preferred marching on foot till we reached the valley Eghellúwa, where plenty of water is found in several wells. Here we halted a moment, and I mounted behind Hámma, on the lean back of his camel, holding on by his saddle; but I could not much enjoy my seat, as I was greatly annoyed by his gun sticking out on the right, and at every moment menacing my face. I was therefore much pleased when we reached the little village of Tigger-éresa lying on the border of a broad valley well clothed with talha-trees, and a little further on encamped in a pleasant recess formed by projecting masses of granite blocks; for here I was told we should surely find camels, and in fact Hámma hired two for me, for four mithkáls each, to go to and return from Ágades. Here we also changed our companions, the very intelligent Mohammed, a son of one of Ánnur’s sisters, returning to Tintéllust, while the turbulent Mohammed (I called him by no other name than Mohammed bábo hánkali), our friend from Afís, came to attend us, and with him Hámmeda, a cheerful and amiable old man, who was a fair specimen of the improvement derivable from the mixture of different blood and of different national qualities; for while he possessed all the cheerfulness and vivacity of the Góber nation, his demeanour was nevertheless moderated by the soberness and gravity peculiar to the Berber race, and though, while always busy, he was not effectively industrious, yet his character approached very closely to the European standard.

He was by trade a blacksmith, a more comprehensive profession in these countries than in Europe, although in general these famous blacksmiths have neither iron nor tools to work with. All over the Tawárek country the “énhad” (smith) is much respected, and the confraternity is most numerous. An “énhad” is generally the prime minister of every little chief. The Arabs in Timbúktu call these blacksmiths “mʿallem,” which may give an idea of their high rank and respected character. Then there is also the “mʿallema,” the constant female companion of the chief’s wife, expert above all in beautiful leather works.

In order to avoid, as much as possible, attracting the attention of the natives, I had taken no tent with me, and sheltered myself at night under the projecting roof of the granite blocks, my Kél-owí friends sleeping around me.

[Sidenote: Saturday, October 5th.]

Hámma was so good as to give up to me his fine tall méheri, while he placed his simple little saddle or “kíri” on the back of the young and ill-trained camel hired here, a proceeding which in the course of our journey almost cost him his ribs. In truth I had no saddle; yet my seat was arranged comfortably by placing first two leathern bags filled with soft articles across the back of the camel, and then fastening two others over them lengthwise, and spreading my carpet over all. Even for carrying their salt, the Kél-owí very rarely employ saddles, or if they do, only of the lightest description, made of straw, which have nothing in common with the heavy and hot “hawiya” of the Arabs.

The country through which we travelled was a picturesque wilderness, with rocky ground intersected at every moment by winding valleys and dry watercourses richly overgrown with grasses and mimosas, while majestic mountains and detached peaks towered over the landscape, the most interesting object during the whole day being Mount Cheréka, with its curious double peak, as it appeared from various sides, first looking as if it were a single peak, only bifurcated at the top, then after a while showing two peaks separated almost to the very base and rising in picturesque forms nearly to the same elevation. Unfortunately our road did not lead us near it, although I was as anxious to explore this singular mountain as to visit the town of Ásodi, which some years ago attracted attention in Europe. We had sent a present to Astáfidet, the chief of the Kél-owí residing here, and probably I should have been well received; but Hámma would not hear of our going there now, so we left the town at no great distance to the right, and I must content myself with here inserting the information obtained from other people who had been there repeatedly.

Ásodi[137], lying at no great distance from the foot of Mount Cheréka, which forms the most characteristic feature of the surrounding landscape, was once an important place, and a great resort for merchants, though, as it is not mentioned by any Arabic writer, not even by Leo, it would seem to be of much later origin than Ágades. Above a thousand houses built of clay and stone lie at present in ruins, while only about eighty are still inhabited; this would testify that it was once a comparatively considerable place, with from eight to ten thousand inhabitants. Such an estimate of its magnitude is confirmed by the fact that there were seven tamizgídas, or mosques, in the town, the largest of which was ornamented with columns, the “mamber” alone being decorated with three, while the naves were covered in partly with a double roof made of the stems of the dúm-tree, and partly with cupolas.

The town, however, seems never to have been inclosed with a wall, and in this respect, as well as in its size, was always inferior to Ágades. At present, although the population is scattered about, the market of Ásodi is still well provided with provisions, and even with the more common merchandise. The house of the amanókal of the Kél-owí is said to stand on a little eminence in the western part of the town, surrounded by about twenty cottages. There is no well inside, all the water being fetched from a well which lies in a valley stretching from north to south.

Conversing with my companions about this place, which we left at a short distance to our right, and having before us the interesting picture of the mountain-range of Búnday, with its neighbouring heights, forming one continuous group with Mount Eghellál, we reached the fine valley Chizólen, and rested in it during the hottest hours of the day under a beautiful talha-tree, while the various beasts composing our little caravan found a rich pasturage all around.

Having taken here a sufficient supply of very good water from hollows scooped in the sand, we continued our march over rocky ground thickly covered with herbage, and surmounted on our right by the angular outlines and isolated sugar-loafs of a craggy ridge, while on our left rose the broad majestic form of Mount Eghellál. As evening came on I was greatly cheered at the sight of a herd of well-fed cattle returning from their pasture-grounds to their night-quarters near the village of Eghellál, which lies at the foot of the mountain so named. They were fine sturdy bullocks of moderate size, all with the hump, and of glossy dark-brown colour.

In the distance, as the Eghellál began to retire, there appeared behind it in faint outlines Mount Bághzen, which of late years has become so famous in Europe, and had filled my imagination with lofty crests and other features of romantic scenery. But how disappointed was I when, instead of all this, I saw it stretching along in one almost unbroken line! I soon turned my eyes from it to Mount Eghellál, which now disclosed to us a deep chasm or crevice (the channel of powerful floods) separating a broad cone, and apparently dividing the whole mountain-mass into two distinct groups.

At six o’clock in the evening we encamped in the shallow valley of Eghellál at some distance from the well, and were greatly delighted at being soon joined by Háj ʿAbdúwa, the son of Fátima (Ánnur’s eldest sister), and the chief’s presumptive heir, a man of about fifty years of age, and of intelligent and agreeable character. I treated him with a cup or two of coffee well sweetened, and conversed with him awhile about the difference between Egypt, which he had visited on his pilgrimage, and his own country. He was well aware of the immense superiority even of that state of society; but on the other hand he had not failed to observe the misery connected with great density of population, and he told me, with a certain degree of pride, that there were few people in Aïr so miserable as a large class of the inhabitants of Cairo. Being attacked by severe fever, he returned the next morning to his village Táfidet, but afterwards accompanied the chief Astáfidet on his expedition to Ágades, where I saw him again. I met him also in the course of my travels twice in Kúkawa, whither he alone of all his tribe used to go in order to maintain friendly relations with that court, which was too often disturbed by the predatory habits of roving Kél-owí.

[Sidenote: Sunday, October 6th.]

Starting early, we soon reached a more open country, which to the eye seemed to lean towards Mount Bághzen; but this was only an illusion, as appeared clearly from the direction of the dry water-courses, which all ran from E. to W.S.W. On our right we had now Mount Ágata, which has given its name to the village mentioned above as lying at its foot. Here the fertility of the soil seemed greatly increased, the herbage becoming more fresh and abundant, while numerous talhas and abísgas adorned the country. Near the foot of the extensive mountain-group of Bághzen, and close to another mountain called Ajúri, there are even some very favoured spots,—especially a valley called Chímmia, ornamented with a fine date-grove, which produces fruit of excellent quality. As we entered the meandering windings of a broad watercourse, we obtained an interesting view of Mount Belásega. The plain now contracted, and, on entering a narrow defile of the ridges, we had to cross a small pass, from the top of which a most charming prospect met our eyes.

A grand and beautifully-shaped mountain rose on our right, leaving, between its base and the craggy heights, the offshoots of which we were crossing, a broad valley running almost east and west, while at the eastern foot of the mountain a narrow but richly-adorned valley wound along through the lower rocky ground. This was Mount Abíla, or Bíla, which is at once one of the most picturesque objects in the country of Aïr, and seems to bear an interesting testimony to a connection with that great family of mankind which we call the Semitic; for the name of this mountain, or rather of the moist and “green vale” at its foot (throughout the desert, even in its most favoured parts, it is the valley which generally gives its name to the mountain), is probably the same as that of the well-known spot in Syria, from which the province of Abilene has been named.[138]

A little beyond the first dry watercourse, where water was to be scooped out a few feet under the surface of the ground, we rested for the heat of the day; but the vegetation around was far from being so rich here as in the valley Tíggeda, at the eastern foot of the picturesque mountain, where, after a short march in the afternoon, we encamped for the night. This was the finest valley I had yet seen in the country. The broad sandy bed of the torrent, at present dry, was bordered with the most beautiful fresh grass, forming a fine turf, shaded by the richest and densest foliage of several kinds of mimosa, the tabórak or _Balanites_, the tághmart, the abísga, and tunfáfia[139], while over all this mass of verdure towered the beautiful peaks which on this side start forth from the massive mountain, the whole tinged with the varied tints of the setting sun. This delicious spectacle filled my heart with delight; and having sat down a little while quietly to enjoy it, I made a sketch of the beautiful forms of the mountain-peaks.

Just before encamping we had passed a small chapel in ruins surrounded by a cemetery. At that time I thought this valley identical with the Tekádda (as the name is generally spelt) mentioned by Ebn Khaldún and by Ebn Batúta[140] as an independent little Berber state between Gógo and Káhir, lying on the road of the pilgrims; but I found afterwards that there is another place which has better claims to this identification.

[Sidenote: Monday, October 7th.]

We began a most interesting day’s march, winding first along the valley Tíggeda (which now in the cool of the morning was enlivened by numerous flocks of wild pigeons), and then over a short tract of rocky ground entering the still more picturesque “érazar-n-Ásada,” on the west only lined by low rocky ridges, but bordered towards the east by the steep massive forms of the Dógem. Here, indeed, a really tropical profusion of vegetation covered the whole bottom of the valley, and scarcely left a narrow low passage for the camels, the rider being obliged to stoop every moment to avoid being swept off his seat. The principal tree here is the dúm-tree, or _Cucifera Thebaïca_, which I had not seen since Selúfiet; but here it was in the wild picturesque state into which it soon relapses if left to nature. There was, besides, a great variety of the acacia tribe all growing most luxuriantly, and interwoven with creepers, which united the whole mass of vegetation into one thick canopy. I regret that there was no leisure for making a sketch, as this valley was far more picturesque even than Aúderas, of which I have been able to give the reader a slight outline.

In this interesting valley we met two droll and jovial-looking musicians, clad in a short and narrow blue shirt well-fastened round their loins, and a small straw hat. Each of them carried a large drum, or tímbali, with which they had been cheering the spirits of a wedding- party, and were now proceeding to some other place on a similar errand. We then met a large slave-caravan, consisting of about forty camels and sixty slaves, winding along the narrow path, hemmed in by the rank vegetation, and looking rather merry than sad,—the poor blacks gladdened doubtless by the picturesque landscape, and keeping up a lively song in their native melody. In the train of this caravan, and probably interested in its lawless merchandise, went Snúsi and Awed el Khér, two of the camel-drivers with whom we had come from Múrzuk, and who probably had laid out the money gained from the English Mission in the very article of trade which it is the desire of the English Government to prohibit. This is a sinister result of well-meant commercial impulses, which will probably subsist as long as the slave-trade itself exists on the north coast of Africa.[141]

On emerging from the thick forest, we obtained the first sight of the majestic cone of the Dógem, while a very narrow ravine or cleft in the steep cliffs on our left led to the village Ásada. We then began to ascend, sometimes along narrow ravines, at others on sloping rocky ground, all covered with herbage up to the summits of the lower mountains. In this way we reached the highest point of the pass, about 2500 feet, having the broad cone of the Dógem on our left, which I then thought to be the most elevated point in Aïr, though, as I mentioned above, the old chief Ánnur maintained that the Tímge is higher. This conspicuous mountain most probably consists of basalt; and, from what I shall observe further on, it may be inferred that the whole group of the Bághzen does so too.

From this pass we descended into the pebbly plain of Erárar-n-Déndemu, thickly overgrown with small talha-trees, and showing along the path numerous foot-prints of the lion, which is extremely common in these highland wildernesses, which, while affording sufficient vegetation and water for a variety of animals, are but thinly inhabited, and everywhere offer a safe retreat. However, from what I saw of him, he is not a very ferocious animal here.

The weather meanwhile had become sultry; and when, after having left the plain, we were winding through narrow glens, the storm, the last of the rainy season, broke out; and through the mismanagement of the slaves, not only our persons, but all our things were soaked with the rain. Our march became rather cheerless, everything being wet, and the whole ground covered with water, which along the watercourses formed powerful torrents. At length we entered the gloomy, rugged valley of Tághist, covered with basaltic stones, mostly of the size of a child’s head, and bordered by sorry-looking rocky hills.

Tághist is remarkable as the place of prayer founded by the man who introduced Islám into Central Negroland[142], and thus gave the first impulse to that continual struggle which, always extending further and further, seems destined to overpower the nations at the very equator, if Christianity does not presently step in to dispute the ground with it. This man was the celebrated Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím ben Maghíli, a native of Búda in Tawát[143], and a contemporary and intimate friend of the Sheikh e’ Soyúti[144], that living encyclopædia and keystone, if I may be allowed the expression, of Mohammedan learning.

Living in the time when the great Sónghay empire began to decline from that pitch of power which it had reached under the energetic sway of Sónni ʿAli and Mohammed el Háj Áskia, and stung by the injustice of Áskia Ismʿaíl, who refused to punish the murderers of his son, he turned his eyes on the country where successful resistance had first been made against the all-absorbing power of the Asáki, and which, fresh and youthful as it was, promised a new splendour, if enlightened by the influence of a purer religion. Instigated by such motives, partly merely personal, partly of a more elevated character, Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím turned his steps towards Kátsena, where we shall find him again; but on his way thither he founded in this spot a place of prayer, to remain a monument to the traveller of the path which the religion of the One God took from the far east to the country of the blacks.

The “msíd,” or “mesálla,” at present is only marked by stones laid out in a regular way, and inclosing a space from sixty to seventy feet long and fifteen broad, with a small mehhráb, which is adorned (accidentally or intentionally, I cannot say) by a young talha-tree. This is the venerated and far-famed “Makám e’ Sheikh ben ʿAbd el Kerím,” where the traveller coming from the north never omits to say his prayers; others call it Msíd Sídi Baghdádi, the name Baghdádi being often given by the blacks to the Sheikh, who had long resided in the east.

At length we descended from the rugged ground of Tághist into the commencement of the celebrated Valley of Aúderas, the fame of which penetrated to Europe many years ago. Here we encamped, wet as we were, on the slope of the rocky ground, in order to guard against the humidity of the valley. Opposite to us, towards the south, on the top of a hill, lay the little village Aërwen wan Tídrak. Another village, called Ífarghén, is situated higher up the valley on the road from Aúderas to Damerghú. On our return I saw in this valley a barbarous mode of tillage, three slaves being yoked to a sort of plough, and driven like oxen by their master. This is probably the most southern place in Central Africa where the plough is used; for all over Sudán the hoe or fertaña is the only instrument used for preparing the ground.

[Sidenote: Tuesday, October 8th.]

While the weather was clear and fine, the valley, bordered on both sides by steep precipices, and adorned with a rich grove of dúm-trees, and bush and herbage in great variety, displayed its mingled beauties, chiefly about the well, where, on our return-journey, I made the accompanying sketch. This valley, as well as those succeeding it, is able to produce not only millet, but even wheat, wine, and dates, with almost every species of vegetable; and there are said to be fifty garden fields (gónaki) near the village of Ífarghén.

But too soon we left this charming strip of cultivation, and ascended the rocky ground on our right, above which again rose several detached hills, one of which had so interesting and well-marked a shape that I sketched its outlines. The road which we followed is not the common one. The latter, after crossing very rugged ground for about fifteen miles, keeps along the fine deep valley Télwa for about ten miles, and then ascending for about an hour, reaches Ágades in three hours more. This latter road passes by Tímelén, where at times a considerable market is said to be held.

Having descended again, we found the ground in the plain covered with a thin crust of natron, and further on met people busy in collecting it; but it is not of very good quality, nor at all comparable to that of Múnio or to that of the shores of Lake Tsád. There are several places on the border between the desert and the fertile districts of Negroland, which produce this mineral, which forms a most important article of commerce in middle Sudán. Another well-known natron-district is in Zabérma; but in Western Sudán natron is almost unknown, and it is only very rarely that a small sample of it can be got in Timbúktu. Many of the Kél-owí have learnt (most probably from the Tedá or Tébu) the disgusting custom of chewing tobacco intermixed with natron, while only very few of them smoke.

The monotony of the country ceased when we entered the valley Búdde, which, running in the direction of our path from S.S.W. to N.N.E., is adorned with a continuous strip of dúm-trees, besides abísga and talha; but the latter were of rather poor growth in the northern part of the valley. Having crossed at noon the broad sandy watercourse, which winds through the rich carpet of vegetation, and where there happened to be a tolerably large pond of water, we encamped in the midst of the thicket. Here the mimosas attained such an exuberance as I had scarcely observed even in the valley Ásada, and being closely interwoven with “gráffeni” or climbing plants, they formed an almost impenetrable thicket. From the midst of this thorny mass of vegetation a beautiful ripe fruit, about an inch and a half long, of the size of a date, and of dark-red colour, awakened the desire of the traveller; but having eaten a few, I found them, though sweet, rather mawkish.

Here too I first became acquainted with the troublesome nature of the “karéngia,” or _Pennisetum distichum_, which, together with the ant, is to the traveller in Central Africa his greatest and most constant inconvenience. It was just ripe; and the little burr-like seeds attached themselves to every part of my dress. It is quite necessary to be always provided with small pincers, in order to draw out from the fingers the little stings, which, if left in the skin, will cause sores. None even of the wild roving natives is ever without such an instrument. But it is not a useless plant; for, besides being the most nourishing food for cattle, it furnishes even man with a rather slight, but by no means tasteless food. Many of the Tawárek, from Bórnu as far as Timbúktu, subsist more or less upon the seeds of the _Pennisetum distichum_, which they call “úzak.” The drink made of it is certainly not bad, resembling in coolness the fúra or ghussub-water.

From the circumstance that our Kél-owí were here cutting grass for the camels, I concluded that the next part of our journey would lead through an entirely sterile tract; but though the herbage was here exuberant, it was not at all wanting further on. Having left the valley awhile to our right, we soon re-entered it, and crossed several beautiful branches of it very rich in vegetation. We then encamped on an open place beyond the southernmost branch, close to a cemetery of the Imghád who inhabit a small village to the east called Tawár Nwaijdúd, and further on some other villages, called Téndau, Tin-tabórak, and Emélloli.

While, with the rest of our companions, we tried to make ourselves comfortable on the hard ground and under the open canopy of heaven, Hámma and Mohammed took up their quarters with the Imghád, and, according to their own statement on their return the following morning, were very hospitably treated, both by the male and female part of the inhabitants. As for the Imghád who live in these fertile valleys round Ágades, they are divided into numerous sections, of which I learnt the following names:—the Ehér-heren, the Kél-chísem, the Taranaiji, the Edárreban, the Yowúswosan, the Efeléngeras, the Éheten[145], the Tariwáza, the Ihíngemángh, the Egemmén, the Edellén, the Kél-tédele, and the Ikóhanén.

[Sidenote: Wednesday, October 9th.]

Our route led us over stony ground till we reached another favoured valley, called Tefárrakad, where, owing to the watercourse being divided into several branches, vegetation is spread over a larger space. Here, while our Kél-owí hung a little behind, two Imghád, mounted on camels, attached themselves to us and became rather troublesome; but they looked so famished and thin that they awakened pity rather than any other feeling, their dress and whole attire being of the poorest description. Further on, when we had left the valley and ascended rocky ground, we met a small caravan of the same mixed kind as our own troop,—camels, bullocks, asses, and men on foot; they were returning to their village with provision of Negro millet, which they had bought in Ágades.

We had scarcely advanced three miles when we descended again into another long, beautiful hollow in the rocky ground, the valley Bóghel, which, besides a fine grove of dúm-trees, exhibits one very large and remarkable specimen of the tree called baure[146] in Háusa, a large ficus with ample fleshy leaves of beautiful green. This specimen, so far to the north, measured not less than twenty-six feet in circumference at the height of eight feet from the ground, and was certainly eighty feet high, with a full, wide-spreading crown. I scarcely remember afterwards to have seen in all Sudán a larger baure than this. Here, for the first time, I heard the Guinea fowl (“táliat” or “tailelt” in Temashight, “zabó” in Háusa); for I did not see it, the birds keeping to the thick and impenetrable underwood which filled the intervals between the dúm- trees.

At noon the wood, which was rather more than half a mile in breadth, formed one continued and unbroken cluster of thicket in the most picturesque state of wild luxuriance, while further on, where it became a little clearer of underwood, the ground was covered with a sort of wild melon; but my friend the blacksmith, who took up one of them and applied his teeth to it, threw it away with such a grimace, that I rather suspect he mistook a colocynth, “jan-gunna,” for a melon, “gunna.” Numbers of the _Asclepias gigantea_, which never grows on a spot incapable of cultivation, bore testimony to the fertility of the soil, which was soon more clearly demonstrated by a small corn-field still under cultivation. Traces of former cultivation were evident on all sides. There can scarcely be the least doubt that these valleys, which were expressly left to the care of the degraded tribes or the Imghád, on condition of their paying from the produce a certain tribute to their masters, once presented a very different aspect; but when the power of the ruler of Ágades dwindled away to a shadow, and when the Imghád, who received from him their kaid or governor, “tágaza,” ceased to fear him, preferring robbery and pillage to the cultivation of the ground, these fine valleys were left to themselves, and relapsed into a wilderness.

We encamped at an early hour in the afternoon near the watercourse, but did not succeed in obtaining water by digging, so that we could not even cook a little supper. Further down the valley there had been a copious supply of water; and we had passed there a numerous caravan of asses near a large pool; but my companions, who were extremely negligent in this respect, would not then lay in a supply. Several Tawárek, or rather Imóshagh and Imghád, encamped around us for the night, and thus showed that we were approaching a centre of intercourse.

Owing to our want of water, we started at a very early hour, and, ascending gradually, after a little more than three miles, reached the height of the pebbly plateau on which the town of Ágades has been built. After having received several accounts of this naked “hammáda” or “ténere” stretching out to the distance of several days, I was agreeably surprised to find that it was by no means so dreary and monotonous as I had been led to expect, forming now and then shallow depressions a few feet only lower than the pebbly surface, and sometimes extending to a considerable distance, where plenty of herbage and middle-sized acacia were growing. The road was now becoming frequented; and my companions, with a certain feeling of pride, showed me in the distance the high “Mesállaje,” or minaret, the glory of Ágades. Having obtained a supply of water, and quenched our thirst, to my great astonishment we proceeded to encamp at half-past seven in the morning in one of these shallow hollows; and I learnt that we were to stay here the whole day till near sunset, in order to enter the town in the dark.

We were here met by two horsemen from Ágades (the son of the kádhi, and a companion), who, I suppose, had come out on purpose to see us. They had a very _chevaleresque_ look, and proved highly interesting to me, as they were the first horsemen I had seen in the country. The son of the kádhi, who was a fine, tall man, was well-dressed in a tobe and trowsers of silk and cotton; he carried only an iron spear besides his sword and dagger, but no shield. But, for me, the most interesting part of their attire was their stirrups, which are almost European in shape, but made of copper. Of this metal were made also the ornaments on the harness of their horses; their saddles also were very unlike what I had yet seen in these countries, and nearly the same as the old Arab saddle, which differs little from the English.

While encamped here, I bought from Hamma a black Sudán tobe, which, worn over another very large white tobe or shirt, and covered with a white bernús, gave me an appearance more suited to the country, while the stains of indigo soon made my complexion a few shades darker. This exterior accommodation to the custom of the natives, my friend Hámma represented as essential for securing the success of my undertaking; and it had, besides, the advantage that it gave rise to the rumour that the sultan of Ágades himself had presented me with this dress.

At length, when the sun was almost down, and when it was known that the Kél-gerés and Itísan (who had come to Ágades in very great numbers, in order to proceed on their journey to Bílma after the investiture of the new sultan) had retreated to their encampments at some distance from the town, we started, and were soon met by several people, who came to pay their compliments to my companions. On entering the town, we passed through a half-deserted quarter and at length reached the house of Ánnur, where we were to take up our abode. But arriving in a new place at night is never very pleasant, and must be still less so where there are no lamps; it therefore took us some time to make ourselves tolerably comfortable. But I was fortunate in receiving hospitable treatment from our travelling companion ʿAbd el Káder, who being lodged in a chamber close to mine, sent me a well-prepared dish of kuskusu, made of Indian corn. I could not relish the rice sent by one of Ánnur’s wives, who resides here, owing to its not being seasoned with any salt, a practice to which I became afterwards more accustomed, but which rather astonished me in a country the entire trade of which consists in salt.

Having spread my mat and carpet on the floor, I slept well, in the pleasing consciousness of having successfully reached this first object of my desires, and dreaming of the new sphere of inquiry on which I had entered.

[Footnote 137: It is an obvious mistake to derive this name, which is written اصُطِه and اصوطِه, though the former is the more correct form and is evidently of sub-Libyan origin, from the Arabic word اسود (black).]

[Footnote 138: See Gesenius, s. v. “abel;” and compare Porter, Five Years in Damascus, vol. i. p. 264.; Stanley, Sinai and Palestine, pp. 405. 485.]

[Footnote 139: I have noticed in my memorandum-book also, that I saw here the first túji; but what “túji” means I am at present unable to say.]

[Footnote 140: Ebn Khaldún, texte Arabe, tom. i. p. 265.; Ebn Batúta, Journal Asiatique, 1843, p. 233.]

[Footnote 141: At the moment I am revising this, I am happy to state that the slave-trade is really abolished.]

[Footnote 142: I trust my readers will approve of my using the expression Western Negroland to denote the countries from Fúta as far as Sókoto; Middle Sudán, or Central Negroland, from Sókoto to Bagírmi; and Eastern Negroland, comprising Wadäy, Darfúr, Kordofán, and Sennár. However, here, when I say that Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím introduced Islám into Central Negroland, I exclude Bórnu, where the Mohammedan religion is much older.]

[Footnote 143: He may have been born in Telemsán; but at least from very early youth he was settled in Tawát.]

[Footnote 144: E’ Soyúti’s full name is Abu’l Fadhl Jelál e’ dín ʿAbd e’ Rahmán el Khodaíri e’ Soyúti.]

[Footnote 145: This name may be connected with the Sónghay or Sónrhay; the Awelímmiden, at least, call the Sónghay people Ehétane.]

[Footnote 146: This tree has nothing in common with the _Adansonia_, with which it has been supposed to be identical.]

CHAP. XVII.

ÁGADES.

Early in the morning the whole body of people from Tawát who were residing in the place, ʿAbd el Káder at their head, paid me a visit. The Tawátíye are still, at the present time (like their forefathers more than 300 years ago), the chief merchants in Ágades; and they are well adapted to the nature of this market, for, having but small means, and being more like pedlars or retail dealers, they sit quietly down with their little stock, and try to make the most of it by buying Negro millet when it is cheap, and retailing it when it becomes dear. Speculation in grain is now the principal business transacted in Ágades, since the branches of commerce of which I shall speak further on, and which once made the place rich and important, have been diverted into other channels. Here I will only remark, that it is rather curious that the inhabitants of Tawát, though enterprising travellers, never become rich. Almost all the money with which they trade belongs to the people of Ghadámes; and their profits only allow them to dress and live well, of which they are very fond. Till recently, the Kél-owí frequented the market of Tawát, while they were excluded from those of Ghát and Múrzuk; but at present the contrary takes place, and, while they are admitted in the two latter places, Tawát has been closed against them.

Several of these Tawátíye were about to return to their native country, and were anxiously seeking information as to the time when the caravan of the Sakomáren, which had come to Tin-téllust, intended to start on their return-journey, as they wished to go in their company. Among them was a man of the name of ʿAbdallah, with whom I became afterwards very intimate, and obtained from him a great deal of information. He was well acquainted with that quarter of the African continent which lies between Tawát, Timbúktu, and Ágades, having been six times to Ágades and five times to Timbúktu, and was less exacting than the mass of his countrymen. The most interesting circumstance which I learnt from them to-day was the identity of the Emgédesi language with that of Timbúktu,—a fact of which I had no previous idea, thinking that the Háusa language, as it was the vulgar tongue of the whole of Ásben, was the indigenous language of the natives of Ágades. But about this most interesting fact I shall say more afterwards.

When the Tawátíye were about to go away, Ámagay, or Mággi, as he is generally called, the chief eunuch of the sultan, came; and I was ordered by my Kél-owí companions, who had put on all their finery, to make myself ready to pay a visit to the sultan. Throwing, therefore, my white heláli bernus over my black tobe, and putting on my richly- ornamented Ghadámsi shoes, which formed my greatest finery, I took up the letters and the treaty, and solicited the aid of my servant Mohammed to assist me in getting it signed; but he refused to perform any such service, regarding it as a very gracious act on his part that he went with me at all.

The streets and the market-places were still empty when we went through them, which left upon me the impression of a deserted place of by-gone times; for even in the most important and central quarters of the town, most of the dwelling-houses were in ruins. Some meat was lying ready for sale; and a bullock was tied to a stake, while numbers of large vultures, distinguished by their long naked neck, of reddish colour, and their dirty-greyish plumage, were sitting on the pinnacles of the crumbling walls ready to pounce upon any kind of offal. These natural scavengers I afterwards found to be the constant inhabitants of all the market-places, not only in this town, but in all the places in the interior. Directing our steps by the high watch-tower, which, although built only of clay and wood, yet, on account of its contrast to the low dwelling-houses around, forms a conspicuous object, we reached the gate which leads into the palace or fáda, a small separate quarter with a large irregular courtyard, and from twenty to twenty-five larger and smaller dwellings. Even these were partly in ruins; and one or two wretched conical cottages built of reeds and grass, in the midst of them, showed anything but a regard to cleanliness. The house, however, in which the sultan himself dwelt proved to have been recently repaired, and had a neat and orderly appearance; the wall was nicely polished, and the gate newly covered in with boards made of the stem of the dúm-tree, and furnished with a door of the same material.

We seated ourselves apart on the right side of a vestibule, which, as is the case in all the houses of this place, is separated from the rest of the room by a low balustrade about ten inches high, and in this shape . Meanwhile Mággi had announced us to his Majesty, and, coming back, conducted us into the adjoining room, where he had taken his seat. It was separated from the vestibule by a very heavy wooden door, and was far more decent than I had expected. It was about forty or fifty feet in every direction, the rather low roof being supported by two short and massive columns of clay, slightly decreasing in thickness towards the top, and furnished with a simple abacus; over which one layer of large boards was placed in the breadth, and two in the depth of the room, sustaining the roof formed of lighter boards. These are covered in with branches, over which mats are spread, the whole being completed with a layer of clay. At the lower end of the room, between the two columns, was a heavy door giving access into the interior of the house, while a large opening on either side admitted the light.

ʿAbd el Káderi, the son of the sultan el Bákiri, was seated between the column to the right and the wall, and appeared to be a tolerably stout man, with large benevolent features, as far as the white shawl wound around his face would allow us to perceive. The white colour of the lithám, and that of his shirt, which was of grey hue, together with his physiognomy, at once announced him as not belonging to the Tawárek race. Having saluted him one after the other, we took our seats at some distance opposite to him, when, after having asked Hamma some complimentary questions with regard to the old chief, he called me to come near to him, and in a very kind manner entered into conversation with me, asking me about the English nation, of which, notwithstanding all their power, he had, in his retired spot, never before heard, not suspecting that “English powder” was derived from them.

After explaining to him how the English, although placed at such an immense distance, wished to enter into friendly relations with all the chiefs and great men on the earth, in order to establish peaceable and legitimate intercourse with them, I delivered to him Ánnur’s and Mr. Richardson’s letters, and begged him to forward another letter to ʿAlíyu, the sultan of Sókoto, wherein we apologised for our incapability, after the heavy losses and the many extortions we had suffered, of paying him at present a visit in his capital, expressing to ʿAbd el Káder, at the same time, how unjustly we had been treated by tribes subject to his dominion, who had deprived us of nearly all the presents we were bringing with us for himself and the other princes of Sudán. While expressing his indignation on this account, and regretting that I should not be able to go on directly to Sókoto, whither he would have sent me with the greatest safety in company with the salt-caravan of the Kél-geres, and at the same time giving vent to his astonishment that, although young, I had already performed journeys so extensive, he dismissed us, after we had placed before him the parcel containing the presents destined for him. The whole conversation, not only with me, but also with my companions, was in the Háusa language. I should have liked to have broached to him the treaty at once; but the moment was not favourable.

On the whole, I look upon ʿAbd el Káder as a man of great worth, though devoid of energy. All the people assured me that he was the best of the family to which the sultan of Ágades belongs. He had been already sultan before, but, a few years ago, was deposed in order to make way for Hámed e’ Rufäy, whom he again succeeded; but in 1853, while I was in Sókoto, he was once more compelled to resign in favour of the former.

While returning with my companions to our lodging, we met six of Bóro’s sons, among whom our travelling companion Háj ʿAli was distinguished for his elegance. They were going to the palace in order to perform their office as “fadáwa-n-serkí” (royal courtiers), and were very complaisant when they were informed that I had been graciously received by his Majesty. Having heard from them that Bóro, since his return, had been ill with fever, I took the opportunity to induce my followers to accompany me on a visit to him.

Mohammed Bóro has a nice little house for a town like Ágades, situated on the small area called Erárar-n-sákan, or “the place of the young camels.” It is shown in the accompanying sketch. The house itself consists of two stories, and furnishes a good specimen of the better houses of the town; its interior was nicely whitewashed. Bóro, who was greatly pleased with our visit, received us in a very friendly manner, and when we left accompanied us a long way down the street. Though he holds no office at present, he is nevertheless a very important personage, not only in Ágades, but even in Sókoto, where he is regarded as the wealthiest merchant. He has a little republic of his own (like the venerable patriarchs) of not less than about fifty sons with their families; but he still possesses such energy and enterprise, that in 1854 he was about to undertake another pilgrimage to Mekka.