brother, had excited the suspicion of his liege lord ʿAlíyu, the ruler
of Sókoto, who had deposed him and given the government to his brother
Áhmedu, whereupon Bokhári had nothing else to do but to throw himself
upon the hospitality and protection of the Bórnu people, who received
him with open arms, the governor of Máshena, with the sanction of his
liege lord the sheikh of Bórnu, assigning to him a neighbouring place,
Yerímarí, for his residence. This is an incident of very frequent
occurrence in these loosely connected empires; but it is particularly
so with the Fúlbe, among whom one brother often cherishes the most
inveterate hatred against another. Exactly the same thing we have seen
already in Kátsena. Bokhári having remained some time quietly in this
place, strengthening his party and assisted underhand with arms and men
by the vizier of Bórnu, had just now set out to try his fortune against
his brother, and was beating the drums in order to collect as many people
as possible.

Predatory incursions are nothing new in these quarters, where several
provinces and entirely distinct empires have a common frontier; but this,
as the event proved, was rather a memorable campaign for the whole of
this part of Negroland, and was to become “the beginning of sorrows”
for all the country around. For Bokhári having taken the strong town of
Khadéja, and killed his brother, was not only able to defend himself
in his new position, vanquishing all the armies sent against him, and
amongst them the whole military force of the empire of Sókoto, which was
led on by the vizier in person, ʿAbdu the son of Gegádo, Clapperton’s
old friend, but spread terror and devastation to the very gates of Kanó.
Indeed, on my second journey through these regions, I shall have the sad
duty of describing the state of misery into which districts, which on
my former visit I had found flourishing and populous, had been reduced
by this warlike chieftain, who instead of founding a strong kingdom
and showing himself a great prince, chose rather, like most of his
countrymen, to base his power on the destruction and devastation of the
country around him, and to make himself a slave-dealer on a grand scale.
Tens of thousands of unfortunate people, pagans as well as Mohammedans,
unprotected in their wellbeing by their lazy and effeminate rulers, have
from the hands of Bokhári passed into those of the slave-dealer, and have
been carried away from their native home into distant regions.

Kept in alarm by the drumming, and making some not very tranquillizing
reflections on the weakness of our little band, which consisted of three
men and a boy, in the turbulent state of the country through which we
were passing, we continued silently on, while the character of the
landscape had nothing peculiarly adapted to cheer the mind. Cultivation
beginning to cease, nothing was to be seen but an immense level tract
of country covered with the monotonous _Asclepias gigantea_ with only a
single poor _Balanites_ now and then. But the scene became more animated
as we approached Chifówa, a considerable town surrounded by a low earthen
wall, which I was greatly astonished to hear belonged still to the
territory of Gúmmel, and was also assigned to Bokhári during his exile.
The boundary between the provinces must run here in a very waving line.

All that I observed here testified that the Háusa population still
greatly predominated; and as we had to turn close round the place on the
north side, where the ground rose, we had a fine view over the whole
interior of the town. It presented a very animated spectacle; and a large
number of horsemen were assembled here, evidently in connection with
the enterprise of Bokhári, while men and women were busy carrying water
into the town from a considerable distance. Of cultivation, however,
very few traces appeared; but a good many cattle and sheep, and even
some camels, were seen grazing about. In Kaselúwa also, the next town,
we were complimented with the usual Háusa salute. Having then passed
through a monotonous tract of country covered with tall reed-grass and
with the _Asclepias_, we reached the town of Yélkazá at half-past nine
o’clock in the morning. Here the governor of the province of Máshena, who
generally has his residence in the town of the same name, was staying at
present, apparently on account of the expedition of Bokhári, which he was
assisting underhand; and I accordingly had to pay him my compliments, as
my horseman, who was a servant of Dan-Tanóma, could not well conduct me
any further. We therefore entered the town by the north gate, and found
people very busy repairing the fortification, consisting of two walls and
three ditches of considerable depth, two of which ran outside round the
outer wall, while the third was enclosed between the two walls.

Having presented ourselves at the residence of the governor, which
was situated in the middle of the town, and consisted altogether of
reed-work, we obtained good quarters, with a spacious and cool shed,
which was the only thing we wanted; for being anxious not to lose
any more time, I had resolved to start again in the afternoon. In
order, therefore, to obtain a guide as soon as possible, I went to
pay my compliments to the governor, whose name was Mohammed. After a
little delay, he came out of the interior of his reed-house into the
audience-hall, which likewise consisted entirely of reed-work, but was
spacious and airy; there he sat down upon a sort of divan, similar to the
ánkaréb used in Egypt, and made of the branches of the tukkurúwa, which
had been brought in expressly for the purpose. My interview, however,
was short, for neither was he himself a lively or inquisitive man, nor
was my Tébu servant, whom, as I myself was not yet able to speak Kanúri
with tolerable fluency, I was obliged to employ as interpreter, at all
distinguished either by eloquence or by frankness, though in other
respects he was an excellent lad.

I obtained, however, all that I wanted, the governor assigning me
immediately a man who should accompany me to ghaladíma ʿOmár, the
governor of Búndi, and I was glad that he did not grumble at my present,
which consisted only of a small phial of rose oil and a quarter of a
pound of cloves. The best and most usual present for the governors on
this road, who are justly entitled to some gift, as no tolls are to
be paid, is a subéta, or white shawl with red or yellow border, such
as are brought from Egypt, which may be accompanied with some spices.
The old man also sent me, after a little while, when I had returned
to my quarters, a dish which at least was not richer than my present,
consisting in a very unpalatable paste of Negro corn, with a nasty sauce
of míya, or molukhíya. Háusa with its delicacies was behind us; and I was
unable to procure, either for hospitality’s sake or for money, a dish of
“fúra,” which I had become very fond of.

The heat was very great, though a light fresh breeze from the east made
it supportable; and my new guide seemed by no means so anxious to go on
as I was, so that I was obliged to search for him a long while. Having
at length laid hold of him we started, passing through an undulating
country without cultivation, and covered only with brushwood, and with
the dreadfully monotonous káwo or _Asclepias_, when after three miles
it became a little varied by underwood, the scene being enlivened by a
karábka, or káfila, with nine camels coming from Kúkawa.

Thus we approached Taganáma, a considerable town, enclosed with a wall
and a double ditch. We were obliged, however, to go round the whole
town, the western gate being closed, and a sort of outwork, such as is
very rare in these countries, consisting in a cross ditch projecting
to a great distance, being made at its north-east corner. At length we
reached the eastern gate, and entered the town. Its interior left on us
an impression of good order and comfort; all the fences of the courtyards
were in excellent repair, the huts large and spacious, and a certain air
of wellbeing was spread over the whole place. Having obtained tolerable
quarters, and corn for my guide’s horse and my own, we lay down early, in
order to continue our journey with the first dawn next morning, but were
aroused at midnight by some people arriving and stating, with an air of
great importance, that they had letters for me. Greatly surprised, and
wondering what these important despatches could be, I got up, but found,
when I had kindled a light, that the letters were not for me at all but
addressed to persons in Kúkawa unknown to me, by others in Kanó not
better known. These unknown friends most probably, after I had fairly
set out, had determined not to let slip this excellent opportunity of
communicating with their friends in Kúkawa. However, the carriers of
the letters thinking, and perhaps expressly made to think, that they
had brought some important message for me, expected a handsome present;
and I had some difficulty in persuading them that they were only giving
me trouble for the sake of other people. Nevertheless, as they were
unprovided with food, I ordered Mohammed to cook a supper for them; and
after having disturbed my night’s rest by their noisy conversation, they
made off again long before daylight. For in this whole district, where
so many different nationalities border close together, the greatest
insecurity reigns, and the inhabitants of one town cannot safely trust
themselves to those of a neighbouring place without fear of being sold as
slaves, or at least of being despoiled of the little they have.

My fine lancer, with whose manly bearing I had been very much pleased
yesterday, appeared to have thought that, instead of exposing himself
alone, by accompanying me further through a disturbed and infested
district, he would do better to retrace his steps in the company of these
people; for the next morning he was gone, and no trace of him was to be
found. Perhaps he was anxious to join the expedition against Khadéja,
where the soldier might make his fortune, while with me he could only
expect to gain a few hundred shells; but whatever was his reason for
decamping, he left me in a state of great perplexity, as I was in a
hurry to go on as fast as possible; and in a country where there are
no highroads, but where even tracks so important as that from Kanó to
Kúkawa are nothing but small paths leading from one village or from one
town to another, I could not well dispense with a guide. As regards
security, I could only rely upon Providence and my own courage. Having
in vain searched for my man, I loaded the camels, and mounting my horse,
proceeded to the residence of the governor, who is the vassal of the
ruler of Máshena. He, having been informed by his servants, soon came
forth, a tall imposing figure, and seeing that my complaint was just, his
liege lord having expressly assigned me the horseman in order to conduct
me to Búndi, he assured me that he would find another guide for me; but
as it would take some time, he ordered one of his servants to lead me out
of the town to a place where the camels meanwhile might graze a little.
Seeing that he was a just and intelligent man, I thanked him for his
kindness, and followed his servant, who conducted us a few hundred yards
from the town, where there was most excellent pasturage for the camels.

While we were waiting here for the guide, my companion, who was a
sociable sort of man, helped me pass the time most agreeably with his
instructive talk. I had observed a very curious object at the governor’s
house—a leathern parcel of considerable dimensions, tied up with great
care and hung on a long pole, and I had fancied that it contained the
body of a criminal exposed there to every man’s sight as a warning
example of severe punishment; but to my great astonishment I now learned
that it was a powerful talisman suspended in order to protect the town
against the Felláta, as the Bórnu people call the Fúlbe, whose inroads
were greatly feared. He likewise informed me that four years ago there
was a desperate struggle for Taganáma, when that town very narrowly
escaped falling into the hands of those fanatical invaders. He praised
his master, whose name as I now learned was Ísa. The cheerful aspect of
the town seemed fully to confirm his praises, and I expressed my hope
that his watchfulness and energy might be a better safeguard to the
inhabitants than that monstrous talisman, the dimensions of which were
really frightful. I was greatly pleased also to observe here the very
first signs of preparing the ground for the approaching season, the
slaves being busy clearing the soil with a sort of strong rake provided
with four long wooden teeth, called “kámga”; but this is very rarely
done, and the preparatory labours of agriculture must differ more or less
in different districts according to the peculiar nature of the ground.

At length we saw the guides coming towards us. Instead of a horseman
there were two archers on foot, short muscular men, clad only with a
leathern apron round their loins, and for arms bearing, besides bow and
arrows, the peculiar little Mánga battle-axe, which they carry on their
shoulders, while a good sized leathern pocket for carrying provisions,
and several diminutive garra bottles hung down by their sides. In short,
they were real Mánga warriors, though they certainly did not inspire us
with all the confidence which we should have wished to repose in a guide.
However, having made them promise in the presence of the governor’s
servant, who professed to know them well, that they would accompany me to
Búndi, I started with them.

Having lost the finest hours of the morning, I was naturally anxious not
to waste more time; and I was glad to perceive that the fine eastern
breeze, which had prevailed for some days, greatly lessened the power
of the sun. Soon afterwards we met the brother of the governor of
Máshena, with a troop of twelve horsemen, hastening towards the point
where the memorable campaign of Bokhári was to commence. The country
was very monotonous, being soon covered with a forest of mean growth,
uninterrupted by any tree of larger size, except the bare dismal-looking
kúka or monkey-bread-tree, and presented evident signs of destructive
warfare waged throughout it; we passed the former sites of several small
towns and villages. The soil consisted here of deep white sand. After
a march of about eight miles, however, the vegetation began to assume
a different character, the ngílle or dúm-bush first appearing, then a
karáge or gáwo (the locust-tree) being seen now and then, after which the
dúm-palm began to prevail entirely. The substratum of this district is
evidently granite, which seems to lie very close to the surface, as about
noon a large mass of this rock projected near our path. A little beyond
this point the wilderness was agreeably interrupted by an opening with
stubble-fields, about which were scattered small granaries, producing,
at such a distance from any inhabited place and without guardians, an
agreeable feeling of security.

Half an hour afterwards we reached the stockade of Wuélleri, and
proceeded directly to the house of the bíllama or mayor, as I wished to
obtain here another guide, for it was only with the greatest difficulty
that I succeeded in dragging on thus far my two archers, who had shown
signs of the greatest anxiety during the latter part of the march, and
had tried several times to turn their backs; but further they would not
go on any account, and I was therefore obliged to dismiss them, paying
them three hundred shells. Unfortunately the bíllama was not at home,
and his brother proved to be a morose and surly fellow. I wished to
stay here only during the hot hours of the day, and to proceed in the
evening after having watered the camels; but he represented to me that
the town of Máshena was too distant to be reached before night, if I
did not go on directly. As this was impossible, I resolved to stay here
for the night, and pitched my tent in an open place in front of a cool
shed. However, we found great difficulty in watering our animals, the
Mánga pretending that there was no water, though we ourselves had passed
the well where the cattle had just been watered. Certainly the aquatic
element was very scarce; and, after much debate, I was at length obliged
to pay one hundred and fifty shells—an enormous charge, if the general
price of the necessaries of life in this country be considered. Thus our
poor camels got at length something to drink, and, with a good feed in
the afternoon, were prepared for a long march the following day. However,
we still wanted a guide; and, notwithstanding our begging, promising,
and threatening, we were unable to persuade any one to accompany us on
to Búndi. The reason of this, however, was not only on account of the
absence of the governor of Máshena from his capital, but likewise owing
to the unsettled state of the country, and the fear entertained by these
people of being caught and sold into slavery. Indeed, between all these
towns, there was scarcely any mutual intercourse kept up by the natives
themselves.

_Thursday, March 20._—Having exerted myself to the utmost to obtain a
guide, I found myself obliged to start alone with my two young lads, the
eldest of whom was eighteen, and the other not more than thirteen or
fourteen years of age. Field and forest succeeded alternately to each
other; and after a little less than two miles, we passed on our left a
small village lightly fenced. Here we met also a small caravan, as a
faint symptom of peaceable intercourse, though its array (covered as it
went by an advanced guard of three archers marching at some distance, and
performing at the same time the office of scouts, and by a rearguard of
two more) showed clearly their sense of insecurity. The country now began
to improve considerably; and a beautiful tamarind-tree vested in the
richest foliage, and closely embracing a colossal leafless _Adansonia_,
formed the beginning of a finer vegetation, while two mounts, one on
our right hand and the other on our left, interrupted the monotonous
level through which we had been travelling. Further on, granitic masses
projected on all sides, and a solitary date-palm spread a peculiar charm
over the landscape.

Having watered my horse at a well in the hollow between the two mounts,
I reached, with my camels, the ditch and thorny fence then forming the
only fortification of the town of Máshena, which place was strengthened,
in the following year, with a clay wall. It lies on the gentle southern
slope of an eminence, the top of which is crowned with a rocky crest,
and is a considerable place for this country, having a population of
certainly not less than ten thousand souls, but without the least sign
of industry. A small káfila of Tébu and Arab merchants were encamped
here; but although we arrived at the very hottest time of the day, I was
too anxious to proceed to think of staying here; and having only asked
the news from Kúkawa, and heard that all was well, I continued my march.
It shows the slowness of intercourse in this country, that these people
were ignorant of Mr. Richardson’s death, although he had died twenty days
before at a place only six days’ march on this side of Kúkawa.

Keeping steadily on, first over open pasture-grounds, then through a
country well wooded, we reached, after a march of about seven miles, a
village, and entered it cheerfully with the intention of spending the
night there, but were greatly disappointed on discovering that it was
entirely deserted, and did not contain a living creature. Fortunately,
however, after consulting what was to be done, we found a traveller
who showed us a small path which was to lead us to the town of Alamáy.
He also informed us that the inhabitants of this village, the name of
which was Jáwel, had formed a new village further south. The little
path pointed out, however, was so overgrown and slightly marked that we
soon became doubtful and perplexed. I went, therefore, to inquire of a
shepherd whom we saw at some little distance on the right of our path;
but no sooner did he observe me approaching than he ran away, leaving his
flock at our discretion.

The state of this country is very miserable indeed, all the petty
governors around, as soon as they have any debts to pay, undertaking a
predatory expedition, and often selling even their own subjects. However,
we were lucky in finding at last a more trodden path, which soon brought
us to an open, straggling village named Kárgímawa, which displayed a
most animated and cheerful picture of a wealthy and industrious little
community—the men sitting in the shade of some fine caoutchouc-trees,
some of them busy making mats others weaving, while the women were
carrying water, or setting the pot upon the fire for the evening repast.
Cattle, goats, and fowl roved about in considerable quantities.

Quite delighted at arriving (in consequence of having strayed from the
direct road) at this sequestered place, we pitched our tent with a
grateful sense of security, and squatted comfortably down, while the
camels found a rich repast in the fields. In one thing, however, I was
disappointed. The sight of so many cattle had led me to anticipate a
good draught of milk; but the cattle did not belong to the inhabitants,
and before sunset they were driven away. In other respects we were
hospitably treated, and four little dishes were brought us in the evening
from different huts, three of which contained paste of Guinea-corn, and
one beans. The latter always seemed to me an agreeable variety; but a
European must be very cautious how he indulges in them in these regions,
as they are apt to derange the stomach, and to bring on serious illness.

_Friday, March 21._—Very early in the morning a numerous troop of small
tradesmen, with pack-oxen, passed through the village while we awaited
daylight; and then having gratefully taken leave of the hospitable
villagers, we set out, accompanied by one of them, to show us the road.
Having passed the former site of a little town, we soon gained the
direct road, where we fell in with a motley gipsy-looking troop of those
Tébu-Jétko, who, after the almost total annihilation of the commonwealth
of Kánem, have immigrated into Bórnu. Those we met here were coming from
Zínder. They had a few horses, oxen, and asses with them, but scarcely
any luggage; and the whole attire of men, women, and children was very
poor. We then passed the little town of Álamáy, surrounded not only with
an earthen wall and ditch, but also with a dense thorny fence some ten
feet thick on the outside. Here was exhibited the pleasant picture of a
numerous herd of fine cattle lying tranquilly on the spacious area inside
the wall, ruminating their last day’s repast, while a large extent of
cultivated ground around the town gave ample proof of the industry of
the people. But the well-being of the inhabitants of these regions has
very little guarantee; and when, toward the end of the year 1854, I again
travelled this same road, not a single cow was to be seen here, and the
whole place looked mournful and deserted, tall reed-grass covering the
fields which had been formerly cultivated.

Having then passed a thick forest of underwood, and some cultivated
ground, half an hour before noon we reached Búndi,[37] the residence
of the ghaladíma ʿOmár, fortified in the same way as Álamáy, and went
up directly to the house of the governor, which consists entirely
of reed-work. However, the mats (“lágará”) which surround the whole
establishment are of very great height, at least fifteen feet, and of
considerable thickness, made of a peculiar reed called “súgu,” and being
sustained by long poles, and kept in a good state of repair, do not look
ill. Besides, they are in general strengthened still further on the
outside by a fence of thorny bushes.

The ghaladíma,[38] or governor of the Gháladí, which (as we shall see in
the historical account of the Bórnu empire) comprised all the western
provinces of Bórnu from the komádugu Wáube (the so-called Yéou) to the
shores of the Kwára, having his residence in Bírni Ngurú, near Mármar,
in former times was an officer (or rather an almost independent feudal
vassal) of immense power; at present, however, he has sunk to great
insignificance, and in real power is much inferior to his neighbours the
governors of Múniyo, Zínder, and even that of Máshena. But the present
ghaladíma ʿOmár is an intriguing man; and it would have been imprudent to
pass on without paying him the compliment of a visit; and I was justified
in hoping that he would provide me with a guide in order that I might
reach as soon as possible the presence of his liege lord the sheikh of
Bórnu.

Not being able to see him directly, I was obliged to sacrifice half a
day, and to make up my mind to spend the night here. I therefore asked
for quarters, and was lodged in a spacious but dirty courtyard, where
I could procure but a very insufficient shade with my little English
bell-tent of thin canvas. Having passed two uncomfortable hours without
any refreshment, I was called in the afternoon into the presence of the
governor, and being obliged to leave my servant behind to take care of my
luggage while ʿAbdallah was pasturing the camels, I went alone, and found
the great man in a spacious room or hall formed entirely of matwork,
where he was lying upon an elevated platform or divan spread with a
carpet. He was a short, well-fed, dark-coloured man, of about sixty years
of age, his large, broad face looking forth from the hood of a blue
cloth bernús, with a neutral expression indicating neither stupidity
nor cleverness; his courtiers were grouped around him on the ground.
Having saluted him and made the usual polite inquiries, I expressed my
ardent desire to reach Kúkawa as soon as possible, as the day which I
had fixed with my elder brother (Mr. Richardson) for a meeting in that
place was drawing nigh; and I begged him, therefore, to grant me a guide
who might conduct me there by the most direct road, of which I myself
was ignorant, much time having been already lost in groping my way from
one place to another. I then delivered my little present, consisting of
an English razor and clasp-knife, a large mirror of German silver, a
parcel of English darning-needles, half a pound of cloves, and a piece of
scented soap. Having looked at these things with satisfaction, he asked
me if I had not anything marvellous with me; and I consented to return
to my quarters and fetch my musical box, with the performance of which
the ghaladíma was highly pleased, but greatly desired to see some other
curious things, such as pocket-pistols, whereupon I told him that I had
nothing else calculated to gratify his curiosity. I was much fatigued,
and on returning to my tent was not at all pleased to be still troubled
by the governor’s servant, who came to ask, in the name of his master,
for calico, sugar, rose oil, and sundry other articles.

Búndi is a place of tolerable size, but with little industry; and the
province of which it is the capital is going to ruin more and more, on
account of the laziness and negligence of its governor,—a statement
which will be amply proved by the account of my journey through the same
district in 1854. The town probably contains eight or nine thousand
inhabitants, who belong to the Mánga nation, which seems to be the chief
element of the Kanúri, and preserves many very remarkable customs. The
special name of the clan of this tribe which dwells hereabouts is Kárda.
There is no market here of any importance; but the inhabitants seem to be
tolerably at their ease, and there was music and racing, or “kadáske,”
in the evening, accompanied by the joyous shrill voices, the “wulúli,”
of the women. We, however, seemed to be forgotten; and it was nine
o’clock at night, long after we had supped, when we received a dish for
ourselves, and corn for the horse. It is rather remarkable that these
western provinces of Bórnu were never conquered by the Fúlbe or Felláta,
though lying so much nearer to those countries of which they have
definitively taken possession than that part of Bórnu situated between
the old capital and the great lagoon. The consequence is, that a certain
degree of independence is allowed to them, and that they do not pay any
tithes to the sheikh.[39]

CHAPTER XXVII.

BÓRNU PROPER.

_Saturday, March 22._—The ghaladíma had promised to send me a horseman
last evening, as I wanted to start early in the morning; but as we
neither saw nor heard anything of him the whole night, I thought it
better not to lose any more time, but to rely upon my own resources, and
accordingly left the town quietly by the northern gate, while the people,
after last night’s merriment, were still buried in sleep.

Following the great road, we kept on through a light forest, at times
interrupted by a little cultivation. We met several parties—first of
a warlike character, armed, horse and foot, then a motley band of
natron-traders with camels, bulls, horses and asses, all laden with this
valuable article. Emerging at length from the forest, we came upon a
wide extent of cultivated land with a sandy soil, with hardly a single
tree at present, and, the labours of the field not having yet commenced,
still covered with the káwo or _Asclepias_, the characteristic weed
of Negroland, which every year, at the beginning of the agricultural
season, is cleared away, and which during the dry season grows again,
often to the height of ten or twelve feet. We then had a most interesting
and cheerful scene of African life in the open, straggling village of
Kálimarí or Kálemrí, divided into two distinct groups by a wide open
space, where numerous herds of cattle were just being watered at the
wells; but how melancholy, how mournful, became the recollection of the
busy animated scene which I then witnessed, when three years and a half
later, as I travelled again through this district, the whole village,
which now presented such a spectacle of happiness and well-being, had
disappeared, and an insecure wilderness, greatly infested by robbers, had
succeeded to the cheerful abode of man.

But inviting as the village was for a halt during the heat of the day,
we had, as conscientious and experienced travellers, the stomachs of our
poor animals more at heart than our own; and having watered the horse
and filled our skins, we continued on for a while, and then halted in
very rich herbage, where, however, there was scarcely a spot free from
the disagreeable “ngíbbu,” the _Pennisetum distichum_. On starting again
in the afternoon, the country began to exhibit a greater variety of
bush and tree; and after a march of two hours, we reached the village
Dármagwá, surrounded with a thorny fence, and encamped near it, not far
from another little trading-party. We were soon joined by a troop of five
Tébu merchants with two camels, a horse, and two pack-oxen, who were also
going to Kúkawa, but who, unfortunately, did not suit me as constant
companions, their practice being to start early in the morning long
before daylight, which was against my principle, as well in a scientific
as in a material point of view; for neither should I have been able to
lay down the road with correctness, nor would even the best arms have
guaranteed my safety while marching in the dark. We therefore allowed
them next morning to have the start of us for full two hours, and then
followed.

_Sunday, March 23._—We now entered a district which may be most
appropriately called the exclusive region of the dúm-palm or _Cucifera
Thebaïca_ in Negroland; for though this tree is found, in large clusters
or in detached specimens, in many localities of Central Africa, yet it
is always limited to some favoured spot, especially to the bank of a
watercourse, as the komádugu near the town of Yo, and there is no other
district of such extent as this tract between Kálemrí and Zurríkulo where
the _Cucifera Thebaïca_ is the characteristic and almost the only tree.
My Gatróni thought that the trees would perhaps not bear fruit here; but
on my second journey, in the month of December, they were loaded with
fruit.

The country has a very peculiar open character, a sandy level very
slightly undulating, covered thinly with tall reed-grass shooting forth
from separate bunches, the line of view broken only now and then by a
cluster of slender fan-palms, without a single trace of cultivation. I
was anxious afterwards to know whether this tract has always had this
monotonous, deserted character, or whether it had contained formerly any
towns and villages; and from all that I could learn, the former seems to
be the case. However, our road was frequented, and we met several little
troops of native travellers, with one of whom I saw the first specimen of
the “kúri,” a peculiar kind of bull of immense size and strength, with
proportionately, large horns of great thickness and curving inwards. They
are almost all of white colour. Their original home is Kárgá, the cluster
of islands and swampy ground at the eastern corner of the Tsád.

After five hours’ marching, when we had just traversed a small hollow
full of herbage, the dúm-palm was for a moment superseded by other
trees, chiefly by the gáwo or karáge; but it soon after again asserted
its eminence as the predominating tree. We encamped at length, ignorant
as we were of the country, a few minutes beyond a small village, the
first human abode we had met with since we had left Dármagwá, half an
hour before noon, in the shade of a tamarind-tree, surrounded by a
thick cluster of dúm-palms. Certainly the tamarind-tree indicated that
water was near: but I was not a little surprised, when ʿAbdallah, who
was tending the camels, brought me the news that a considerable river,
now stagnant, was close behind us. It was, as I afterwards learnt, the
“Wáni,” that branch of the komádugu Wáube (erroneously called “Yéu”)
which runs past Khadéja and joins the other branch which comes from
Katágum. We therefore watered our camels here without being obliged to
pay a single shell, and gave them a good feed, after which we resumed our
march, and were not a little astonished when, having crossed the komádugu
where it formed a narrow meandering channel about fifty yards broad, and
bordered on both sides with trees, we discovered the town of Zurríkulo at
a short distance before us. Going round the north side of the town, we
entered the dilapidated wall on the eastern side, where there was an open
space, and pitched my tent close to the Tébu, who had arrived already in
the forenoon. Soon after, there arrived also a káfila, with twelve camels
and a number of oxen and asses, from Kúkawa, and I was anxious to obtain
some news of Mr. Richardson; but these people were utterly ignorant of
the actual or expected arrival of any Christian in that place. They told
me, however, what was not very agreeable, that the sheikh of Bórnu was
about to undertake a pilgrimage to Mekka; but fortunately, though that
was the heart’s desire of that mild and pious man, he could not well
carry it into execution.

I had now entered Bórnu proper, the nucleus of that great Central African
empire in its second stage, after Kánem had been given up. It is bordered
towards the east by the great sea-like komádugu the Tsád or Tsáde, and
towards the west and north-west by the little komádugu which by the
members of the last expedition had been called Yéou, from the town of
that name, or rather Yó, near which they first made its acquaintance on
their way from Fezzán. I had now left behind me those loosely attached
principalities which still preserve some sort of independence, and
henceforth had only to do with Bórnu officers. Not feeling very well, I
remained in my tent without paying my compliments to the officer here
stationed, whose name is Kashélla Sʿaid, with whom I became acquainted
on another occasion, but the good man being informed by the people that
a stranger from a great distance, who was going to visit his liege lord,
had entered his town, sent his people to welcome me, and regaled me with
several bowls of very good paste, with fresh fish, and a bowl of milk.

Zurríkulo was once a large town, and at the time of the inroad of Wadáÿ
revolted from the sheikh, but was obliged to surrender to his brother
ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán. Since then it has gradually been decaying, and is now
half deserted. The neighbourhood of the town is full of wild animals; and
great fear was entertained by my companions for our beasts, as we had no
protection in our rear. The roaring of a lion was heard during the night.

_Monday, March 24._—Next morning, when we resumed our march, the fan-palm
for some time continued to be the prevailing tree; but some kúkas also,
or _Adonsonia digitata_, and other more leafy trees began to appear, and
after a while a thick underwood sprang up. Then followed a few scattered,
I might say forlorn, date-trees, which looked like strangers in the
country, transplanted into this region by some accident. The sky was
clear; and I was leaning carelessly upon my little nag, musing on the
original homes of all the plants which now adorn different countries,
when I saw advancing towards us a strange-looking person of very fair
complexion, richly dressed and armed, and accompanied by three men on
horseback, likewise armed with musket and pistols. Seeing that he was a
person of consequence, I rode quickly up to him and saluted him, when
he, measuring me with his eyes, halted and asked me whether I was the
Christian who was expected to arrive from Kanó; and on my answering
him in the affirmative, he told me distinctly that my fellow-traveller
Yakúb (Mr. Richardson) had died before reaching Kúkawa, and that all his
property had been seized. Looking him full in the face, I told him that
this, if true, was serious news; and then he related some particulars,
which left but little doubt as to the truth of his statement. When
his name was asked, he called himself Ismʿaíl; I learned, however,
afterwards, from other people, that he was the Sheríf el Habíb, a native
of Morocco, and really of noble blood, a very learned, but extremely
passionate man, who, in consequence of a dispute with Mʿallem Mohammed
had been just driven out of Kúkawa by the sheikh of Bórnu.

This sad intelligence deeply affected me, as it involved not only the
life of an individual, but the whole fate of the mission; and though
some room was left for doubt, yet in the first moment of excitement, I
resolved to leave my two young men behind with the camels, and to hurry
on alone on horseback. But Mohammed would not hear of this proposal; and
indeed as I certainly could not reach Kúkawa in less than four days, and
as part of the road was greatly infested by the Tuarek, such an attempt
might have exposed me to a great deal of inconvenience. But we determined
to go on as fast as the camels would allow us. We halted at eleven
o’clock, shaded by the trunk of an immense leafless monkey-bread-tree,
a little behind the walled place Kábi, the southern quarter of which is
alone inhabited, and where our friends the Tébu had encamped. Starting
then together with them at two o’clock in the afternoon, we took the road
by Déffowa, leaving on our right that which passes Donári, the country
now assuming a more hospitable and very peculiar character.

For here begins a zone characterized by sandy downs from one hundred
to one hundred and twenty feet high, and exhibiting on their summits a
level plain of excellent arable soil, but with few trees, while the dells
separating these downs one from the other, and which often wind about in
the most anomalous manner, are in general richly overgrown with a rank
vegetation, among which the dúm-palm and the dúm-bush are predominant.
This curious formation, I fancy, has some connection with the great
lagoon, which in a former period must have been of much greater extent.

The intercourse on the road this afternoon was exceedingly animated;
and one motley troop followed another,—Háusa fatáki, Bórnu traders or
“tugúrchi,” Kánembú Tébu, Shúwa Arabs, and others of the roving tribe of
the Welád Slimán, all mixed together,—while their beasts of burden formed
a multifarious throng of camels, oxen, horses, and asses. The Welád
Slimán, who were bringing camels for sale to the market of Kanó, were
greatly frightened when I told them what had happened to their brethren
near Kúka mairuá, as they were conscious that most of the camels now
with them were of the number of those which two years ago had been taken
from the Kél-owí in Bilma. As evening came on, the dells which we had to
traverse were thronged with thousands of wild pigeons, carrying on their
amorous play in the cool twilight of approaching night. All was silent
with the exception of a distant hum, becoming more and more distinct as
we wound along the side of an exuberant meandering valley. The noise
proceeded from the considerable town of Déffowa, which we reached at a
quarter past seven o’clock, and encamped at a little distance to the
north. Lively music never ceased in the town till a late hour.

_Tuesday, March 25._—All was still silent in the place when, early in
the morning, I set out with my little troop to follow the track of our
temporary companions the Tébu. The village was surrounded only by a light
thorny fence; but it seemed to be prosperous and densely inhabited. The
country continued similar in character, but better cultivated than the
tract we had traversed the day before; and the immense multitude of wild
pigeons, which found a secure and pleasant haunt in the rank vegetation
of the hollows, made it necessary to resort to some expedient to keep
them off. High platforms were therefore erected in the fields, in the
shade of some tree; and ropes drawn from them were fastened to poles and
coated with a peculiar vegetable extract, which caused them, if put into
motion by a person stationed upon the platform, to give forth a loud
sound, which kept the birds at a respectful distance. We saw here also
a small cotton-field. If the country were more densely inhabited and
the people more industrious and better protected by their slave-hunting
governors, all the lowlands and valley-like hollows, which during the
rainy season form so many water-channels, and retain a great degree of
moisture during the whole year, would afford the most splendid ground for
this branch of cultivation.

The repeated ascent and descent along steep slopes of deep sandy soil
more than a hundred feet high was very fatiguing for the camels. While
ascending one of these ridges, we had a very charming view over the whole
of the neat little village of Kálowa, lying along the slope and in the
hollow to our left. It was rather small, containing about two hundred
huts, but every yard was shaded by a korna or bíto-tree (_Balanites_);
and comfort (according to the wants felt by the natives) and industry
were everywhere manifested. In the midst was a large open space, where
the cattle were collecting round the wells to be watered, while the
people were drawing water to fill the large round hollows, “kéle nkíbe,”
made with little clay walls to serve as troughs. The blacksmith was seen
busy at his simple work, making new hoes for the approaching season;
the weaver was sitting at his loom; several were making mats of reed;
some women were carrying water from the wells, some spinning or cleaning
the cotton, while others pounded corn for their daily consumption. The
little granaries, in order to preserve the stock of corn from the danger
of conflagration, which every moment threatens these light structures
of straw and reed, were erected on a sandy level near the edge of the
slope. Even the fowls had their little separate abodes, also of reed,
very thrifty and neat, as the accompanying woodcut will show. Such was
the simple but nevertheless cheerful picture which this little village
exhibited. My two boys were a long way ahead of me when I awoke from my
reverie and followed them.

It was shortly before we came to this village that we passed the enormous
skeleton of an elephant,—the first trace of this animal which I had seen
since Gazáwa (I mean the independent pagan place of that name between
Tasáwa and Kátsena). The road was frequented; early in the morning we
had met a party of tugúrchi with pack-oxen, who had been travelling a
great part of the night, as they generally do on account of this beast
of burden bearing the heat of the day very badly. About an hour’s march
beyond Kálowa we met a party of horsemen coming from Kúkawa; and as their
head man appeared to be an intelligent person, I approached him, and
asked him the news of the place. He most probably took me for an Arab,
and told me that all was well, but that the Christian who had been coming
from a far distant country to pay his compliments to the sheíkh had died
more than twenty days ago, in a place called Ngurútuwa, before reaching
Kúkawa. There could now be no more doubt of the sad event; and with deep
emotion I continued my march, praying to the Merciful to grant me better
success than had fallen to the lot of my companion, and to strengthen me,
that I might carry out the benevolent and humane purposes of our mission.

This district also has a very scanty supply of water; and it took us more
than half an hour to collect, from four wells near another small village,
a sufficient supply for my horse; but as to filling our water-skins, it
was not to be thought of. The wells were ten fathoms deep. We halted
half an hour before noon, not far from another well, at the foot of a
sandy swell upon which the little village “Mʿallem Kerémerí” is situated.
Here, as well as in the village passed in the morning, we could not
obtain beans, though the cultivation of them is in general carried
on to a great extent; but this district seemed to produce millet or
_Pennisetum typhoïdeum_ almost exclusively—at least no sorghum was to
be seen. Keeping generally along a hollow, which however was not much
depressed, and which consisted of arable sandy soil with a few bushes
and trees, we reached the little town or village Dunú, surrounded with
a ditch and earthen wall in decay, so that the gate had become useless.
There was a large open space inside, and as the inhabitants, who gave us
a very cheerful welcome, advised us not to encamp outside, on account of
the number of wild beasts infesting the neighbourhood, we pitched the
tent inside the wall. We might have passed a very comfortable evening
with the natives, who took great interest in me, had it not been for my
faithful old companion the Bú-Séfi, the best (or rather the only good
one) of my three camels, which, when it was growing dark, and ʿAbdallah
went to bring the animals back from their pasture, could not be found.
The careless boy had neglected to fasten the camel’s legs; and being
very hungry, it had gone in search of better herbage. This was a very
disagreeable accident for me, as I was in the greatest hurry; and my
two young lads, who were well aware of it, went for several hours,
accompanied by the inhabitants of the place, in every direction, through
the whole tract where the camels had been grazing, lighting the ground
with torches, but all in vain.

Wearied and exhausted, they returned about midnight and lay down to
sleep, the music and dance also, which the cheerful natives had kept
up, dying away at the same time. About an hour later, being too much
excited from anxiety to obtain sleep, I went out once more to see if
all was right, when I saw my favourite coming slowly along towards the
tent; and on reaching it he laid down by the side of his two inferior
companions. There was no moonlight; the night was very dark; evidently
only the brightness of the well-known white tent guided the “stupid”
animal. But this was no great proof of stupidity; and I am rather afraid
that Europeans often make camels stupid by their own foolish treatment of
them, whereas I was wont to treat this noble animal, which had carried
myself or the heaviest of my things all the way from Tripoli, as a
sensible companion, giving it in the beginning the peel of the oranges I
was eating, of which it was particularly fond, or a few of my dates (for
which it did not fail to turn round its beautiful neck), or granting it
a little extra feed of Negro millet which it ate like a horse. Rejoiced
at seeing my favourite, the absence of which had created such anxiety,
returning of its own accord to my tent, and lying down near it, I aroused
my servant from his sleep to tell him the joyful news. I wanted to reward
it with some corn, but it had taken such good care of itself, that it
refused its favourite food.

I was much grieved in consequence of being obliged to part with my old
companion; but camels from the coast will not stand the effects of a
rainy season in Negroland. I hoped it would safely return to its native
country; but the Arab who bought it from me, went first to Kanó when the
rainy season was already setting in, and the poor animal died not far
from the place where Mr. Richardson had succumbed. Its fidelity will ever
remain in my memory as one of the pleasantest recollections of my journey.

Having thus got back our best carrier, though we had lost a good night’s
rest, we started early next morning over the same sort of ground we had
been traversing the last few days, and in two hours reached the little
town of Wádi, the noise from which, caused by the pounding of grain, had
been heard by us at the distance of almost a mile. Indeed the pounding
of grain has betrayed many a little village and many a caravan. The town
is considerable, but properly consists of two different quarters walled
all round, and separated from each other by a wide open space where
the cattle rest in safety. Approving very much of this way of building
a town in these turbulent regions, we kept along the open space, but
were greatly perplexed from the number of paths branching off in every
direction, and scarcely knew which road to take. It had been my intention
originally to go to Borzári, in the hope of obtaining from the governor
of that town a horseman to carry the news of my approach to the sheikh
of Bórnu; but being here informed that I should be obliged to make
a great circuit in order to touch at that place, I changed my plan,
and took another and more direct road, which in the beginning seemed
a well-trodden highroad, but soon became a narrow footpath, winding
along from village to village without any leading direction. However,
we met several small caravans as well of Arabs, who were going to Kanó,
as of native traders or tugúrchi with natron. Passing now over open
cultivated ground, then through a bushy thicket, we reached, about ten
o’clock in the morning, the considerable open village Kábowa, where a
well-frequented and very noisy market was being held, and halted during
the heat of the day under a shady tamarind-tree about five hundred yards
to the south, near a “kaudi” or “kabéa tseggénabé” (a yard for weaving
cotton).

We had scarcely unloaded our camels, when one of the weavers came, and,
saluting me most cordially, begged me to accept of a dish of very well
prepared “fúra” or “tiggra,” with curdled milk, which evidently formed
their breakfast. The market was very partially supplied, and did not
furnish what we wanted. Natron, salt, and túrkedí, or the cloth for
female dress made in Kanó, constituted the three articles which were
plentiful; also a good many cattle, or rather pack-oxen, were there,
besides two camels and abundance of the fruit of the dum-palm; but meat
was dear, onions extremely scarce, and beans not to be got at all,
and, what was worse, the people refused to accept shells (“kúngona”
in Kanúri), of which we had still a small supply, and wanted gábagá,
or cotton stripes, of which we had none. Our camels, therefore, which
hereabouts found plenty of their favourite and nourishing food, the
aghúl or _Hedysarum Alhaggi_, fared much better than we ourselves. The
neighbourhood had rather a dreary aspect; the east wind was very high and
troublesome; the well was distant, and, with a depth of eight fathoms,
did not furnish the supply necessary for the numerous visitors to the
market. Early in the afternoon we continued our march, first in the
company of some market-people returning to their native village, then
left to our judgment to discriminate, among the numberless footpaths
which intersected the country in every direction, the one which was most
direct or rather least circuitous; for a direct highroad there is none.
We became at length so heartily tired of groping our way alone, that we
attached ourselves to a horseman who invited us to accompany him to his
village, till, becoming aware that it lay too much out of our way, we
ascended the slope of a sandy ridge to our right, on the summit on which
was situated the village Lúshiri, where we pitched our tent.

Here also the inhabitants behaved hospitably; and I had scarcely
dismounted, when a woman from a neighbouring hut brought me a bowl of
ghussub-water as a refreshment. We succeeded also in buying here a good
supply of beans and sorghum—or ngáberi, as it is called in Kanúri; for
my Kátsena horse refused to eat the millet or argúm, and sorghum is
very scarce in all this part of the country as well as in many other
districts of Bórnu, especially in the district of Koyám. The women of
the village, who were very curious to see the interior of my tent, were
greatly surprised to find that I was a bachelor, and without a female
partner, accustomed, as they were, to see travellers in this country,
at least those tolerably at their ease, with a train of female slaves.
They expressed their astonishment in much diverting chat with each other.
I got also milk and a fowl for my supper, and the bíllama afterwards
brought some “ngáji” (the favourite Kanúri dish) for my men. As the
situation of the village was elevated, it was most interesting to see in
the evening the numerous fires of the hamlets and small towns all around,
giving a favourable idea of the local population.

_Thursday, March 27._—Early in the morning we continued our march; but
we lost a great deal of time through ignorance of the direct way. Some
of the paths appear, at times, like a well-frequented highroad, when
suddenly almost every trace of them is lost. At length, at the walled
town of Gobálgorúm, we learned that we were on the road to Kashímma;
and we determined to keep on as straight as possible. The country which
we traversed early in the morning consisted of stiff clayey soil,
and produced ngáberi; but this was only a sort of basin of no great
extent, and the landscape soon changed its character. After we had
passed Gobálgorúm, the country became much richer in trees; and this
circumstance, as well as the increased number of waterfowl, indicated
plainly that we were approaching a branch of the wide-spreading net of
the komádugu of Bórnu.

First we came to a hollow clothed with a great profusion of vegetation
and the freshest pasturage, but at present dry, with the exception of a
fine pond of clear water on our left; and we marched full three miles
through a dense forest before we came to the real channel, which here,
running south and north, formed an uninterrupted belt of water as far as
the eye could reach, but at present without any current. It looked just
like an artificial canal, having almost everywhere the same breadth of
about fifty yards, and, at the place where we crossed it, a depth of two
feet and a half. We halted during the heat of the day, on its eastern
shore, in the shade of one of the small gáwo-trees which border it on
this side; and after our dreary and rather uninteresting march from
Kanó, I was greatly delighted with the animated and luxuriant character
of the scene before us. The water of this komádugu, moreover, though
it was fully exposed to the power of the sun’s rays, was delightfully
cool, while that from the wells was disagreeably warm, having a mean
temperature of 77°, and quite unfit to drink until allowed to cool. The
river was full of small fish; and about twenty boys from the village of
Shógo, which lay upon the summit of the rising ground before us, were
plashing about in it in playful exercise, and catching the fish with a
large net of peculiar make, which they dragged through the water. This
komádugu too is called Wáni; and I think it more probable that this is
the continuation of the branch which passes Katágum, than that the latter
joins the branch of Khadéja to the southward of Zurríkulo. While we were
resting here, I was pestered a little by the curiosity of a company of
gipsy-like Jétko, who, with very little luggage, traverse the country in
every direction, and are the cleverest thieves in the world. A native of
the village, whom we had met on the road, came afterwards, with his wife,
and brought me a dish of well-cooked hasty-pudding; and on my complaining
that, though in great haste, we were losing so much time, owing to our
being unacquainted with the nearest road, he promised to serve us as a
guide: but unfortunately I made him a present too soon; and as he did not
keep his word, we preferred groping our way onwards as well as possible.
Our camels had meanwhile got a good feed in the cool shade of the trees;
for if exposed to the sun, these animals will not eat during the heat of
the day, but prefer lying down.

With fresh spirit and energy we started, therefore, at half-past two in
the afternoon, ascending the considerable slope of the ridge upon which
the village stands. At this hour the sun was very powerful, and none of
the inhabitants were to be seen, with the exception of an industrious
female who, on a clean open spot near the road, was weaving the cotton
threads into gábagá. Opposite the village to the north of the path, was a
round cluster of light Kánembú cottages formed in a most simple way, with
the long stalks of the native corn bent so as to meet at the top, and
fastened with a few ropes. Descending immediately from this considerable
ridge, we entered a dale thickly overgrown with trees, where I was
greatly astonished to see a herd of cattle watered, with great trouble,
from the wells, while the river was close at hand; but on addressing the
neatherds, I was informed by them that the stagnant water of the komádugu
at this season is very unwholesome for cattle.

All the trees hereabouts were full of locusts, while the air was darkened
by swarms of hawks (_Cenchreis_), which, with a singular instinct,
followed our steps as we advanced; for on our approaching a tree, the
locusts, roused from their fatal repose and destructive revelling, took
to flight in thick clouds, when the birds dashed down to catch them,
often not only beating one another with their wings, but even incommoding
us and our animals not a little.

The peculiar character of lofty sandy ridges and thickly overgrown
hollows continued also in this district; no dúm-palm was to be seen, but
only the dúm-bush, called ngílle by the Bórnu people. About two miles and
a half behind Shógo we passed a wide and most beautiful basin, with rich
pasture-grounds enlivened by numbers of well-fed cattle. Stubble-fields,
with small granaries such as I have described above, were scattered about
here and there. Then keeping on through a more level country with patches
of cultivation, we reached the fields of Bandégo. The village introduced
itself to our notice from afar by the sound of noisy mirth; and I was
surprised to hear that it was occasioned by the celebration, not of a
marriage, but of a circumcision. This was the first and last time during
my travels in Negroland that I saw this ceremony performed with so much
noise.

We were quietly pitching our tent on the east side of the village, and
I was about to make myself comfortable when I was not a little affected
by learning that the girls, who had been bringing little presents
to the festival, and who were just returning in procession to their
homes, belonged to Ngurútuwa, the very place where the Christian (Mr.
Richardson) had died. I then determined to accompany them, though it
was late, in order to have at least a short glimpse of the “white man’s
grave,” and to see whether it were taken care of. If I had known, before
we unloaded the camels, how near we were to the place, I should have gone
there at once to spend the night.

Ngurútuwa,[40] once a large and celebrated place, but at present
somewhat in decay, lies in a wide and extensive plain, with very few
trees, about two miles north-east from Bandégo; but the town itself
is well shaded, and has, besides kórna and bíto, some wide-spreading
umbrageous fig-trees, under one of which Mr. Richardson had been buried.
His grave, well protected with thorn bushes, appeared to have remained
untouched, and was likely to remain so. The natives were well aware that
it was a Christian who had died here; and they regarded the tomb with
reverence. The story of his untimely end had caused some sensation in the
neighbourhood. He arrived in a weak state in the evening, and early the
next morning he died. The people had taken great interest in the matter,
and the report they gave me of the way in which he was buried agreed in
the main circumstances with that which I afterwards received from his
servants, and of which I forwarded an account from Kúkawa. Unfortunately
I had no means of bestowing gifts on the inhabitants of the place where
my companion had died. I gave, however, a small present to a man who
promised to take especial care of the grave; and I afterwards persuaded
the vizier of Bórnu to have a stronger fence made round it.

It was late in the evening when I returned to my tent engrossed with
reflections on my own probable fate, and sincerely thankful to the
Almighty Ruler of all things for the excellent health which I still
enjoyed notwithstanding the many fatigues which I had undergone. My way
of looking at things was not quite the same as that of my late companion,
and we had therefore often had little differences; but I esteemed him
highly for the deep sympathy which he felt for the sufferings of the
native African, and deeply lamented his death. Full of confidence
I stretched myself upon my mat, and indulged in my simple supper,
accompanied with a bowl of milk which the inhabitants of Bandégo had
brought me. The people were all pleased with us; only the cattle, when
returning from their pastures, took offence at my strange-looking tent,
which I had pitched just in the path by which they were accustomed to
return to their usual resting-place.

_Friday, March 28._—At an early hour we were again on the march,
conducted a little while by an inhabitant of the village, who undertook
to show us the direct road, which passes on its south side. He
represented the road which we were about to take as much infested by
the Kindín or Tuarek at that moment; and he advised us, as we went on
from one place to another, to make strict inquiries as to the safety of
the road before us. With this well-meant advice he left us to our own
discretion; and I pursued my way with the unsatisfactory feeling that it
might be again my fate to come into too close contact with my friends
the Tuarek, whom I had been so glad to get rid of. Saddened with these
reflections, my two young companions also seeming a little oppressed,
and trudging silently along with the camels, we reached Aláune, once a
considerable town, but now almost deserted, and surrounded by a clay wall
in a state of great decay. Accosting the people, who were just drawing
water from the well inside the wall, and asking them about the state of
the road, we were told that, as far as Kashímma, it was safe; but beyond
that they pronounced it decidedly dangerous. We therefore continued our
march with more confidence, particularly as we met some market-people
coming from Kashímma.

Aláune is the same place which, by the members of the last expedition,
has been called Kabshári, from the name of the then governor of the
town—Bu-Bakr-Kabshári—after whom the place is even at present often
called “bílla Kabshári_be_” (the town of Kabshári). Keeping on through
a country partly cultivated, partly covered with thick underwood, which
was full of locusts, we were greatly delighted by obtaining at about
eight o’clock a view of a fine sheet of water, in the dale before us,
surrounded with a luxuriant vegetation, and descended cheerfully towards
its shore, where two magnificent tamarind-trees spread their canopy-like
foliage over a carpet of succulent turf. While enjoying this beautiful
picture, I was about to allow my poor horse a little feed of the grass,
when a woman, who had come to fetch water, told me that it was very
unwholesome.

This is the great komádugu of Bórnu, the real name of which is “komádugu
Wáube,” while, just from the same mistake which has caused Aláune to
be called Kabshári, and the river of Zyrmi, Zyrmi, it has been called
Yeou; for though it may be called the river of Yeou, or rather of Yó,
particularly in its lower course, where it passes the town of this name,
it can never be called “the river Yó,” any more than the Thames, on
account of its flowing through London, can be called the river London.

While ordering ʿAbdallah to follow with the camels along the lower road,
I ascended with Mohammed the steep slope of the sandy swell, rising to
about three hundred feet, on the top of which Kashímma is situated in a
fine healthy situation commanding the whole valley. It is an open place,
consisting entirely of huts made of cornstalks and reeds, but is of
considerable size and well inhabited. However, I was not disposed to make
any halt here; and learning, to my great satisfaction, that no Kindín
had been seen as far as the Eastern Ngurútuwa, I determined to go on as
fast as possible, and persuaded a netmaker to point out clearly to me the
road which we were to take; for we had now rather difficult ground before
us—the wide bottom of the valley, with its thick forest and its several
watery channels.

The path led us gradually down from the eminence upon which Kashímma is
situated, into the bushy dale with a great quantity of ngílle, and also
a few dúm-palms. Here we saw numerous footprints of the elephant, and
some of enormous size; and truly the wanderer cannot be surprised that
this colossal animal has taken possession of these beautiful, luxuriant
shores of the komádugu, from which the native in his inborn laziness has
despairingly retired, and allowed them to be converted into an almost
impenetrable jungle. The thicket became for a while very dense, a real
jungle, such as I had not yet seen in Negroland, when a clearer spot
followed, overgrown with tall coarse grass ten feet high, fed by the
water which after the rainy season covers the whole of this low ground,
and offering a rich pasture to the elephant. Then we had to traverse a
branch of the real komádugu, at present very shallow, but at times, to
be crossed only with the aid of a “mákara.” In the thick covert which
bordered upon this channel the dúm-palm was entirely predominant.

Though the thicket was here so dense, the path was well trodden, but as
soon as we reached a place which had been cleared for cultivation we lost
all traces of it, and then turned off to our right, where we saw a small
village and a farm situated in the most retired spot imaginable. Here we
found a cheerful old man, the master of the farm, who, on hearing that we
too were going eastward, begged us, very urgently, to spend the remainder
of the day in his company, adding that he would treat us well and start
early the next morning with us for Ngurútuwa; but, however delightful
it might appear to me to dream away half a day in this wilderness, my
anxiety to reach Kúkawa compelled me to reject his proposal. However, the
thicket became so dense, that we had the utmost difficulty in getting my
bulky luggage through it.

Having made a short halt about noon to refresh ourselves and our
animals, we continued our march through the forest, which here consisted
principally of dúm-palms, farʿaón, kálgo, tʿalha-trees, and a little
siwák or _Capparis sodata_. The ground was covered with the heavy
footprints of the elephant, and even at this season it retained many
ponds in the channel-like hollows. A solitary maráya or mohhor (_Antilope
Soemmeringii_) bounded through the thicket; indeed antelopes of any
species are rare in these quarters, and on the whole road I had seen but
a single gazelle, near the village Díggere-báre. But it seems remarkable
that from the description of the natives there cannot be the least doubt
that that large and majestic variety of antelope called _addax_, which
is very much like a large stag, is occasionally found here. A fine open
space with rich pastures and with hurdle-enclosures interrupted the
thicket for about a mile, after which we had to traverse, another thick
covert, and emerging from it were agreeably surprised at beholding a
lake of considerable dimensions on our left, and after a short interval
another still more considerable approaching from the north and turning
eastward, its surface furrowed by the wind and hurrying along in little
billows which dashed upon the shore. On its eastern side lie the ruins of
the celebrated town Ghámbarú, which although not the official residence
of the kings of Bórnu, was nevertheless their favourite retreat during
the flourishing period of the empire; and those two lakes, although
connected with the komádugu and fed by it, were artificial basins, and
seem to have considerable depth; else they could scarcely have presented
such a magnificent sheet of water at this season of the year. But at
present all this district, the finest land of Bórnu in the proper sense
of the word, which once resounded with the voices and bustle of hundreds
of towns and villages, has become one impenetrable jungle, the domain of
the elephant and the lion, and with no human inhabitants except a few
scattered herdsmen or cattle-breeders, who are exposed every moment to
the predatory inroads of the Tuarek. This condition of the finest part of
the country is a disgrace to its present rulers, who have nothing to do
but to transfer hither a few hundreds of their lazy slaves, and establish
them in a fortified place, whereupon the natives would immediately gather
round them and change this fine country along the komádugu from an
impenetrable jungle into rich fields, producing not only grain but also
immense quantities of cotton and indigo.

The town of Ghámbarú was taken and destroyed by the Jemáʿa of the Fúlbe
or Felláta at the same time with Ghasréggomo, or Bírni, in the year of
the Hejra 1224, or 1809 of our era, and has not been since reoccupied, so
that the ruins are thickly overgrown and almost enveloped in the forest.
Although I had not leisure to survey attentively the whole area of the
town, I could not help dismounting and looking with great interest at a
tolerably well-preserved building, evidently part of a mosque, at the
south-eastern corner of the wall. I knew, from the report of the last
expedition, that there were here remains of brick buildings; but I did
not expect to find the workmanship so good. The bricks are certainly not
so regularly shaped as in Europe, but in other respects they seemed quite
as good. It is indeed a source of mournful reflection for the traveller
to compare this solid mode of building practised in former times in
this country, at least by its rulers, with the frail and ephemeral
architecture of the present day; but this impression of retrograding
power and resources is caused also by the history of the country,
which we shall soon lay before our readers. Even in the half-barbarous
country of Bagírmi we may still find the remains of very extensive brick
buildings.

Overtaking the two young companions of my adventurous journey, I
travelled on through an interesting but wild country, when at five
o’clock in the afternoon a branch of the river once more approached on
our left, and soon cut across our path, leaving no trace of it. I felt
sure that the track crossed the river here, but unfortunately allowed
myself to be overruled by my servant (who was in truth an experienced
lad); and accordingly we kept along the sandy border of the channel,
following the traces of cattle till we became assured that there was
no path in this place. Having searched for about two hours, we were at
last compelled, by the darkness which had set in, to encamp in the midst
of this dense forest; and I chose a small hillock on the border of the
river, in order to protect myself, as well as possible, from the noxious
exhalations, and spread my tent over my luggage, in the midst of which I
arranged my bed. I then strewed, in a circle round our little encampment,
dry wood and other fuel, to be kindled in case of an attack of wild
beasts, and, taking out a parcel of cartridges, prepared for the worst.
However, we passed a quiet night, disturbed only by the roaring of a lion
on the other side of the river, and by a countless multitude of waterfowl
of various species, playing and splashing about in the water the whole
night.

_Saturday, March 29._—Having convinced myself that the river could be
crossed by the path only at the place where we first came upon it,
I mounted early in the morning, after we had loaded the camels, and
returned to that spot, when, having crossed the stream, I found the
continuation of the path on the other side. At length we were again _en
route_, having lost altogether about three hours of our precious time.
However, my companions thought that nevertheless we should not have been
able the previous evening, in the twilight, to reach the next station,
the name of which is also Ngurútuwa; so dense was the forest in some
places, and such difficulty had we in getting through with our luggage,
so that we were at times almost reduced to despair.

Beyond the village mentioned we should not have succeeded in finding an
outlet, had we not met with some shepherds who were tending numerous
flocks of sheep and goats. All was one thorny covert, where kaña
and bírgim, the African plum-tree, were, together with mimosa, the
predominant trees. Near the village, however, which lies in the midst of
the forest, very fine fields of wheat occupied a considerable open space,
the corn standing now about a foot and a half high, and presented a most
charming sight, particularly when compared with the scanty industry which
we had hitherto observed in this, the finest part of the country.

Keeping then close to the narrow path, we reached, half an hour before
noon, an open place of middle size called Míkibá, and halted between the
village and the well, which, being in a hollow, is only three fathoms
deep. Being obliged to allow the camels a good feed, as they had got
nothing the previous evening, we did not start again till four o’clock
in the afternoon; and it was in vain that I endeavoured to buy some
provisions from the inhabitants with the few indifferent articles which I
had to offer them: the small fancy wares of Nuremberg manufacture proved
too worthless and frail even for these barbarians. The people, however,
endeavoured to frighten us by their accounts of the roads before us—and
indeed, as it afterwards appeared, they were not quite wrong; but we
could not stay a night with people so inhospitable, and, besides, I had
lost already too much time.

Confiding, therefore, in my good luck, I was again in the saddle by
four o’clock, the country being now clearer of wood, though generally
in a wild, neglected state. After a little more than two miles’ march,
near a patch of cultivated ground I saw a group of three monkeys of the
same species, apparently, as those in Asben. In general, monkeys seem
not to be frequent in the inhabited parts of Negroland. The day with
its brightness was already fading away, and darkness setting in filled
us with anxiety as to where we might pass the night with some security,
when, to our great delight, we observed in the distance to our right the
light of some fires glittering through a thicket of dúm-palms, tamarinds,
and other large trees. We endeavoured, therefore, to open a path to them,
cheered in our effort by the pleasing sound of dance and song which came
from the same direction.

It proved to be a wandering company of happy herdsmen, who bade us a
hearty welcome after they had recognized us as harmless travellers;
and, well satisfied at seeing our resolution thus rewarded, we pitched
our tent in the midst of their huts and numerous herds. Entering then
into conversation with them, I learnt to my astonishment that they were
neither Kanúri nor Háusa people, but Felláta, or Fúlbe of the tribe
of the Óbore, who, notwithstanding the enmity existing between their
kinsmen and the ruler of Bórnu, are allowed to pasture their herds here
in full security, so far as they are able to defend themselves against
the robberies of the Tuarek, and without even paying any tribute to the
sheikh. However, their immigration into this country does not date from
very ancient times; and they appear not to have kept their stock pure
from intermixture, so that they have lost almost all the national marks
of the Fulfúlde race.

They seemed to be in easy circumstances, the elder men bringing me each
of them an immense bowl of milk, and a little fresh butter as cleanly
prepared as in any English or Swiss dairy. This was a substantial proof
of their nationality; for all over Bórnu no butter is prepared except
with the dirty and disgusting addition of some cow’s urine, and it is
all in a fluid state. The hospitable donors were greatly delighted when
I gave to each of them a sailor’s knife; but on our part we were rather
perplexed by their bounty, as I and my two boys might easily have drowned
ourselves in such a quantity of milk. Meanwhile, as I was chatting with
the old people, the younger ones continued their singing and dancing till
a late hour with a perseverance most amusing, though little favourable
for our night’s rest; moreover, we were startled several times by some
of the cattle, which lay close to our tent, starting up occasionally
and running furiously about. There was a lion very near; but the blaze
of the fires kept him off. Our friends did not possess a single dog—but
this was another mark of nationality; they rely entirely upon their own
watchfulness.

In consequence of our disturbed night’s rest, we set out at rather a late
hour, accompanied by two of our friends, in order to show us the ford
of the komádugu, which, they told us, ran close to their encampment.
And it was well that we had their assistance; for though the water was
but three feet deep at the spot where they led us through, it was much
deeper on both sides, and we might easily have met with an accident. It
was here about five and thirty yards across, and was quite stagnant. It
is, doubtless, the same water which I had crossed at Kashímma, where,
with its several branches, it occupied an immense valley, and again just
before I came to the Eastern Ngurútuwa.

Our hospitable friends did not leave us till they had assisted us through
the extremely dense covert which borders the eastern bank of the river.
They then returned, recommending us very strongly to be on our guard,
as we should have the komádugu always on our left, where some robbers
were generally lurking. We had not proceeded far when we met an archer
on horseback following the traces of a band of Tuarek, who, as he told
us, had last night made an attack upon another encampment or village of
herdsmen, but had been beaten off. He pursued his way in order to make
out whether the robbers had withdrawn. An archer on horseback is an
unheard-of thing not only in Bórnu, but in almost all Negroland, except
with the Fúlbe; but even among them it is rare. Fortunately the country
was here tolerably open, so that we could not be taken by surprise, and
we were greatly reassured when we met a troop of native travellers, three
of whom were carrying each a pair of bukhsa or ngibú, immense calabashes
joined at the bottom by a piece of strong wood, but open on the top.

These are the simple ferry-boats of the country, capable of carrying one
or two persons, who have nothing besides their clothes (which they may
deposit inside the calabashes), safely, but certainly not dryly, across a
stream. In order to transport heavier things, three pairs, joined in the
way I shall have an opportunity of describing at another time, will form
a sufficiently buoyant raft. This would form the most useful expedient
for any European traveller who should undertake to penetrate into the
equatorial regions, which abound in water; but if he has much luggage,
he ought to have four pairs of calabashes, and a strong frame to extend
across them.

The great advantage of such a portable boat is, that the parts can
be most easily carried on men’s backs through the most rugged and
mountainous regions, while the raft so formed will be strong enough, if
the parts are well fastened together, for going down a river; but of
course, if they came into contact with rocks, the calabashes would be
liable to break. Horses must swim across a river in these countries; but
even their crossing a powerful stream safely would be greatly facilitated
if they were protected against the current by such a float lying along
their sides. On my succeeding journeys I often wished to be in the
possession of such a boat.

Amusing myself with such thoughts, and indulging in happy anticipations
of future discoveries, I continued my solitary march cheerfully and with
confidence. To our left the channel of the komádugu once approached, but
soon receded again and gave way to the site of a considerable deserted
town, containing at present but a small hamlet of cattle-breeders, and
called significantly “fáto ghaná” (few huts). The country was here
adorned with trees of fine foliage, and was enlivened besides by large
flocks of goats and sheep, and by a small caravan which we fell in with.
We then passed, on our right, a considerable pool of stagnant water,
apparently caused by the overflowing of the komádugu, and further on
observed a few patches of cotton-ground well fenced and protected from
the cattle. Then followed stubble-fields adorned with fine trees, in the
shade of which the cattle reposed in animated groups. The soil consisted
of sand, and was burrowed throughout in large holes by the earth-hog
(_Orycteropus Æthiopicus_).

Thus about half-past ten we reached the neat little village Ájirí, and
encamped at a short distance from it, under a cluster of beautiful and
shady tamarind-trees, not knowing that, as the cemetery of some venerated
persons, it was a sanctified place; however, on being informed of this
circumstance, we were careful not to pollute it. I now learned that I
had not followed the shortest track to Kúkawa, which passes by Kamsándi,
but that Yusuf (Mr. Richardson’s interpreter), with the Christian’s
property, had also taken this road. I might therefore have pursued my
journey directly to that residence, and should have had the company of
a corn-caravan, which was about to set forward in the afternoon; but
as it was absolutely necessary that I should send word to the sheikh
that I was coming, and as there was no other governor or officer on
the track before me from whom I might obtain a decent and trustworthy
messenger, I preferred going a little more out of my way in order to
visit the Kashélla Khér-Alla, an officer stationed by the sheikh in the
most exposed place of this district, in order to protect it against the
inroads of the Tuarek.

Having, therefore, taken a hearty leave of the villagers, who had
all collected round me, listening with astonishment and delight to
the performance of my musical box, I started again at an early hour
in the afternoon, accompanied, for a little while, by the bíllama,
and continuing in a north-easterly direction. The country in general
presented nothing but pasture-grounds, with only some cultivation of
grain and patches of cotton-fields near the hamlet Yerálla, which, after
a little more than three miles, we passed on our left. Further on, the
komádugu again approached on the same side; and we were obliged to go
round it at a sharp angle to reach the village where the Kashélla had his
residence.

Having pitched the tent, I went to pay him my compliments, and had the
satisfaction to find him a friendly, cheerful person, who at once ordered
one of his best men to mount and to start for Kúkawa, in order to carry
to the vizier the news of my arrival. He is a liberated slave, who,
having distinguished himself by his valour in the unfortunate battle at
Kúsuri, has been stationed here at the vizier’s suggestion. His power,
however, is not great, considering the wide extent of the district which
he has to protect, as he has only seventy horsemen under his command,
twenty of whom are constantly employed in watching the motions of the
predatory bands of the Tuarek. These are chiefly the inhabitants of the
little principality of Alákkos, of which I have had occasion to speak
above, who, like all the Tuarek, in general are not very fond of serious
fighting, but rather try to carry off a good booty, in slaves or cattle,
by surprise. Khér-Alla has already done a great deal for the security
and welfare of the district where he resides, the population of which is
intermixed with Tébu elements, and cannot be trusted; but he evidently
cannot extend his protecting hand much further westward than Ájiri.

Feeling deeply the disgraceful state of this the finest portion of Bórnu,
I afterwards advised the vizier to build watch-towers all along the
komádugu, from the town Yó, as far as the western Ngurútuwa, the place
where Mr. Richardson died, which would make it easy to keep off the
sudden inroads of these predatory tribes, and, in consequence, the whole
country would become the secure abode of a numerous population; but even
the best of these mighty men cares more for the silver ornaments of his
numerous wives than for the welfare of his people. I presented Khér-Alla
with a red cap, a pair of English scissors, and some other small things;
and he spent the whole evening in my tent, listening with delight to the
cheerful Swiss air played by my musical box.

_Monday, March 31._—At a tolerably early hour, I set out to continue
my march, accompanied by a younger brother and a trusty servant of the
kashélla, both on horseback, and traversed the entire district. It is
called Dúchi, and is well inhabited in a great number of widely scattered
villages. The soil is sandy, and cornfields and pasture-grounds succeed
each other alternately; but I did not see much cattle. I was astonished
also to find so little cultivation of cotton. Having met a small troop of
tugúrchi with pack-oxen, we made a halt, a little after eleven o’clock,
near the first village of the district, Dímberwá.

My two companions wanted to obtain here a guide for me, but were
unsuccessful; however, after we had started again at three o’clock, they
procured a man from the bíllama of the next village, and then left me.
I wished to obtain a guide to conduct me at once to Kúkawa; but I was
obliged to submit to this arrangement, though nothing is more tedious and
wearisome than to be obliged to change the guide at every little place,
particularly if the traveller be in a hurry. It might be inferred, from
the number of little paths crossing each other in every direction, that
the country is thickly inhabited; and a considerable troop of tugúrchi
gave proof of some intercourse. Dark-coloured, swampy ground, called
“ánge,” at times interrupted the sandy soil, which was covered with fine
pasture; and we gradually ascended a little. I had already changed my
guide four times, when, after some trouble, I obtained another at the
village Gúsumrí; but the former guide had scarcely turned his back, when
his successor in office decamped, most probably in order not to miss his
supper, and, after some useless threatening, I had again to grope my
way onward as well as I could. Darkness was already setting in when I
encamped near the village Bággem, where I was treated hospitably by the
inhabitants of the nearest cottage.

_Tuesday, April 1._—Keeping through an open country with sandy soil and
good pasture, we reached, a little after nine o’clock, the well of Úra, a
village lying at some distance to the left of the path, and here filled a
water-skin, and watered the horse; but, hurrying on as we were, perhaps
we did not allow the poor beast sufficient time to fill his stomach.
Having then marched on through an open country, where large trees cease
altogether, only detached clusters of bushes appearing here and there,
and where we saw a large herd of ostriches and a troop of gazelles, we
halted a little before noon in the scanty shade of a small _Balanites_.

About two o’clock in the afternoon, after man and beast had enjoyed a
little repose and food, we prepared to continue our march; and my horse
was already saddled, my bernús hanging over the saddle, when I perceived
that my two youngsters could not manage our swift and capricious
she-camel, and that, having escaped from their hands, although her
forelegs were tied together, she baffled all their efforts to catch her
again. Confiding, therefore, in the staid and obedient disposition of my
horse, I ran to assist them, and we at length succeeded in catching the
camel; but when I returned to the place where I had left my horse, it was
gone, and it was with some difficulty that we found its tracks, showing
that it had returned in the direction whence we had come. It had strayed
nearly as far as the well of Úra, when it was most fortunately stopped by
some musketeers marching to Kúkawa, who met my boy, when he had already
gone halfway in pursuit of it.

In consequence of this _contretemps_, it was five o’clock when we again
set out on our march; and in order to retrieve the lost time, I kept
steadily on till half an hour before midnight. At seven o’clock we
passed a considerable village, called Búwa, where the troops, horse and
foot, which had passed us some time before, had taken up their quarters,
and two miles further on we had villages on our right and left; but
still there were few signs of population, probably because, owing to
the lateness of the hour, the fires were extinguished. We encamped,
at length, near a small village, but had reason to repent our choice;
for while we were unable to procure a drop of water, the inhabitants
being obliged to bring their supply from a considerable distance, we
were annoyed the whole night by a violent quarrel between a man and his
two wives. But here I must remark that I very rarely witnessed such
disgusting scenes during the whole of my travels in Negroland.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

ARRIVAL AT KÚKAWA.

_Wednesday, April 2._—This was to be a most momentous day of my travels;
for I was to reach that place which was the first distinct object of our
mission, and I was to come into contact with those people on whose ill
or goodwill depended the whole success of our mission. Although encamped
late at night, we were again up at an early hour; but in endeavouring
to return to the track which we had left the preceding night, we
inadvertently crossed it, and so came to another village, with a very
numerous herd of cattle, where we became aware of our error, and then
had to regain the main road. Two miles afterwards there was a very great
change in the character of the country; for the sandy soil which had
characterized the district all along the komádugu now gave way to clay,
where water is only met with at a considerable depth. We met a troop
of tugúrchi, who informed us that none of the villages along our track
at the present moment had a supply of water, not even the considerable
village Kangáruwa, but that at the never-failing well of Beshér I should
be able to water my horse. This news only served to confirm me in my
resolution to ride on in advance, in order as well to water my poor beast
before the greatest heat of the day, as to reach the residence in good
time.

I therefore took leave of my two young servants, and, giving Mohammed
strict orders to follow me with the camels as fast as possible, I
hastened on. The wooded level became now interrupted from time to time
by bare naked concavities, or shallow hollows, consisting of black
sedimentary soil, where, during the rainy season, the water collects and,
drying up gradually, leaves a most fertile sediment for the cultivation
of the másakwá. This is a peculiar kind of holcus (_Holcus cernuus_),
which forms a very important article in the agriculture of Bórnu. Sown
soon after the end of the rainy season, it grows up entirely by the
fructifying power of the soil, and ripens with the assistance only of the
abundant dews, which fall here usually in the months following the rainy
season. These hollows, which are the most characteristic natural feature
in the whole country, and which encompass the south-western corner of the
great lagoon of Central Africa throughout a distance of more than sixty
miles from its present shore, are called “ghadír” by the Arabs “fírki,”
or “ánge,” by the Kanúri. Indeed they amply testify to the far greater
extent of the lagoon in ante-historical times.

Pushing on through a country of this description, and passing several
villages, I reached about noon Beshér, a group of villages scattered over
the cornfields, where numerous horsemen of the sheikh were quartered; and
being unable myself to find the well, I made a bargain with one of the
people to water my horse, for which he exacted from me forty “kúngona”
or cowries. However, when I had squatted down for a moment’s rest in the
shade of a small talha-tree, his wife, who had been looking on, began
to reprove him for driving so hard a bargain with a young inexperienced
stranger; and then she brought me a little tiggra and curdled milk
diluted with water, and afterwards some ngáji, or paste of sorghum.

Having thus recruited my strength, I continued my march; but my horse,
not having fared so well, was nearly exhausted. The heat was intense; and
therefore we proceeded but slowly till I reached Kálilwá, when I began
seriously to reflect on my situation, which was very peculiar. I was now
approaching the residence of the chief whom the mission, of which I had
the honour to form part, was especially sent out to salute, in a very
poor plight, without resources of any kind, and left entirely by myself
owing to the death of the director. I was close to this place, a large
town, and was about to enter it without a single companion. The heat
being just at its highest, no living being was to be seen either in the
village or on the road; and I hesitated a moment, considering whether it
would not be better to wait here for my camels. But my timid reluctance
being confounded by the thought that my people might be far behind, and
that if I waited for them we should find no quarters prepared for us, I
spurred on my nag, and soon reached the western suburb of Kúkawa.

Proceeding with some hesitation towards the white clay wall which
encircles the town, and which from a little distance could scarcely
be distinguished from the adjoining ground, I entered the gate, being
gazed at by a number of people collected here, and who were still
more surprised when I inquired for the residence of the sheikh. Then
passing the little daily market (the dyrríya), which was crowded with
people, I rode along the déndal, or promenade, straight up to the
palace, which borders the promenade towards the east. It is flanked by
a very indifferent mosque, built likewise of clay, with a tower at its
north-west corner, while houses of grandees enclose the place on the
north and south sides. The only ornament of this place is a fine chédia
or caoutchouc-tree in front of the house of ʿAli Ladán, on the south
side: but occasionally it becomes enlivened by interesting groups of
Arabs and native courtiers in all the finery of their dress, and of their
richly caparisoned horses.

The sheikh, though he usually resides in his palace in the eastern town,
was at present here; and the slaves stared at me, without understanding
or caring to understand, what I wanted, until Díggama, the storekeeper,
was called, who, knowing something of me as ʿAbd el Kerím, ordered a
slave to conduct me to the vizier. Though I had heard some account
of the sheikh living out of the western town, I was rather taken by
surprise at seeing the large extent of the double town; and I was equally
astonished at the number of gorgeously dressed horsemen whom I met on my
way.

Considering my circumstances, I could not have chosen a more favourable
moment for arriving. About two hundred horsemen were assembled before
the house of the vizier, who was just about to mount his horse in order
to pay his daily visit to the sheikh. When he came out, he saluted me
in a very cheerful way, and was highly delighted when he heard and saw
that I had come quite alone. He told me he had known me already, from the
letter which I had sent to his agent in Zínder stating that I would come
after I had finished my business, but not before. While he himself rode
in great state to the sheikh, he ordered one of his people to show me my
quarters. These were closely adjoining the vizier’s house, consisting of
two immense courtyards, the more secluded of which enclosed, besides a
half-finished clay dwelling, a very spacious and neatly built hut. This,
as I was told, had been expressly prepared for the mission before it was
known that we were without means.

I had scarcely taken possession of my quarters when I received several
visits from various parties attached to the mission, who all at once
made me quite _au fait_ of all the circumstances of my not very enviable
situation as one of its surviving members. The first person who called
upon me was Ibrahím, the carpenter, who, at Mr. Richardson’s request,
had been sent up from Tripoli, at the monthly salary of twenty mahbúbs
besides a sum of four dollars for his maintenance. He was certainly a
handsome young man, about twenty-two years of age, a native of “the
holy house” (Bét el mogaddus) or Jerusalem, with big sounding phrases
in his mouth, and quite satisfied to return with me directly to Fezzán
without having done anything. Then came his more experienced and cheerful
companion, ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, a real sailor, who was not so loud in his
clamours, but urged more distinctly the payment of his salary, which was
equal to that of Ibrahím.

After I had consoled these dear friends, and assured them that I had no
idea at present of returning northward, and that I should do my best
to find the means of satisfying the most urgent of their claims, there
arrived another of the bloodsuckers of the mission, and the most thirsty
of them all. It was my colleague, the bibulous Yusuf, son of Mukni the
former governor of Fezzán, accompanied by Mohammed ben Bu-Sʿad, whom
Mr. Richardson, when he discharged Yusuf in Zínder, had taken into his
service in his stead, and by Mohammed ben Habíb, the least serviceable
of Mr. Richardson’s former servants. Yusuf was mounted upon a fine
horse, and most splendidly dressed; but he was extremely gracious and
condescending, as he entertained the hope that my boxes and bags, which
had just arrived with my faithful Gatróni, were full of shells, and that
I should be able to pay his salary at once. He was greatly puzzled when
I informed him of my extreme poverty. Mr. Richardson’s other servants,
to my great regret, had gone off the day before, unpaid as they were, in
order to regain their various homes.

I now ascertained that the pay due to Mr. Richardson’s servants amounted
to more than three hundred dollars; besides which there was the
indefinite debt to the Sfáksi, amounting in reality to twelve hundred
and seventy dollars, but which, by the form in which the bill had been
given, might easily be doubled. I did not possess a single dollar, a
single bernús, nor anything of value, and moreover was informed by my
friends that I should be expected to make both to the sheikh and to the
vizier a handsome present of my own. I now saw also that what the Sheríf
el Habíb had told me on the road (viz. that all Mr. Richardson’s things
had been divided and squandered) was not altogether untrue. At least,
they had been deposited with the vizier on very uncertain conditions,
or rather had been delivered up to him by the two interpreters of our
late companion, intimating to him that I and Mr. Overweg were quite
subordinate people attached to the mission, and that we had no right to
interfere in the matter.

Seeing how matters stood, I thought it best, in order to put a stop to
the intrigues which had been set a going, to take Mohammed ben Sʿad into
my service on the same salary which he had received from Mr. Richardson.
Besides, I pledged my word to all that they should each receive what was
due to him, only regretting that the rest of Mr. Richardson’s people
had already gone away. After all these communications, fraught with
oppressive anxiety, I received a most splendid supper as well from the
sheikh as from the vizier, and, after the various exertions of the day,
enjoyed a quiet night’s rest in my clean cottage.

Thus strengthened, I went the next morning to pay my respects to
the vizier, taking with me a small present of my own, the principal
attractions of which lay in a thick twisted lace of silk of very handsome
workmanship, which I had had made in Tripoli, and a leathern letter-case
of red colour, which I had brought with me from Europe. Destitute as
I was of any means, and not quite sure as yet whether Her Britannic
Majesty’s Government would authorize me to carry out the objects of the
mission, I did not deem it expedient to assume too much importance, but
simply told the vizier that, though the director of the mission had not
been fortunate enough to convey to him and the sheikh with his own mouth
the sentiments of the British Government, yet I hoped that, even in this
respect, these endeavours would not be quite in vain, although at the
present moment our means were so exhausted that, even for executing our
scientific plans, we were entirely dependent on their kindness.

The same reserve I maintained in my interview with the sheikh on
the morning of Friday, when I laid little stress upon the object of
our mission (to obtain security of commerce for English merchants),
thinking it better to leave this to time, but otherwise dwelling upon
the friendship established between the sheikh’s father and the English,
and representing to them that, relying upon this manifestation of their
friendly disposition, we had come without reserve to live awhile among
them, and under their protection and with their assistance to obtain an
insight into this part of the world, which appeared so strange in our
eyes. Our conversion was quite free from constraint or reserve, as nobody
was present besides the sheikh and the vizier.

I found the sheikh (ʿOmár, the eldest son of Mohammed el Amín el Kánemy)
a very simple, benevolent, and even cheerful man. He has regular and
agreeable features, rather a little too round to be expressive; but he is
remarkably black—a real glossy black, such as is rarely seen in Bórnu,
and which he has inherited undoubtedly from his mother, a Bagírmaye
princess. He was very simply dressed in a light tobe, having a bernús
negligently wrapped round his shoulder; round his head a dark-red shawl
was twisted with great care; and his face was quite uncovered, which
surprised me not a little, as his father used to cover it in the Tuarek
fashion. He was reclining upon a divan covered with a carpet, at the back
of a fine airy hall neatly polished.

My presents were very small, the only valuable article among them being
a nice little copy of the Kurán, which on a former occasion I had bought
in Egypt for five pounds sterling, and was now carrying with me for my
own use. That I made a present of this book to the prince may perhaps
be regarded with an unfavourable eye by some persons in this country;
but let them consider it as a sign of an unprejudiced mind, and of the
very high esteem in which he held me, that, although knowing me to be a
Christian, he did not refuse to accept from my hands that which was most
holy in his eyes. On the whole I could not have expected a more friendly
reception, either from the sheikh or from his vizier. But there was a
very delicate point which I was obliged to touch upon: what was to become
of Mr. Richardson’s property?

In the afternoon I went again to the vizier, and requested to see the
inventory of all that my late companion had left; and he showed it to
me and read it himself. He then ordered the box to be opened, which
contained clothes and papers; and I was glad to see that not only the
journals, upon the keeping of which Mr. Richardson had bestowed great
care, but also all his other collectanea, were safe. Having taken the
inventory with me, I sent Mohammed the following day to him with the
request that Mr. Richardson’s property should be delivered to me. Having
been desired to call myself at noon, I went, but was surprised to find
only Lamíno (properly el Amín), the vizier’s confidential officer,
of whom I shall have occasion to speak hereafter. I was still more
surprised when only some of Mr. Richardson’s boxes were brought in, and
I was desired to select what I wanted, and leave the rest behind. This
I refused to do, and asked where the other things were, when Lamíno did
not hesitate to declare that the ornamented gun and the handsome pair of
pistols had been sold. Upon hearing this, though I had been treated very
kindly and hospitably on my arrival, and had received immense quantities
of provision of every kind, I could not refrain from declaring that if in
truth they had behaved so unscrupulously with other people’s property I
had nothing more to do here, and returned to my quarters immediately.

My firmness had its desired effect; and late in the evening I received
a message from the vizier, that if I wanted to have a private interview
with him I might come now, as during the daytime he was always troubled
by the presence of a great many people. The person who brought me this
message was Háj Edrís, a man of whom in the course of my proceedings
I shall have to speak repeatedly. Satisfied with having an opportunity
of conversing with the vizier without reserve, I followed the messenger
immediately, and found Háj Beshír quite alone, sitting in an inner court
of his house, with two small wax candles by his side. We then had a
long interview, which lasted till midnight, and the result of which was
that I protested formally against the sale of those things left by Mr.
Richardson, and insisted that all should be delivered to me and to Mr.
Overweg as soon as he should arrive, when we would present to the sheikh
and to the vizier, in a formal manner all those articles which we knew
our companion had intended to give to them. Besides, I urged once more
the necessity of forwarding the news of Mr. Richardson’s death, and of
my safe arrival as soon as possible, as, after our late misfortunes in
Aír, Her Britannic Majesty’s Government, as well as our friends, would be
most anxious about our safety. I likewise tried to persuade my benevolent
and intelligent host that he might do a great service to the mission,
if he would enable us to carry out part of our scientific purposes
without delay, as Government would certainly not fail to honour us with
their confidence, if they saw that we were going on. Having carried all
my points, and being promised protection and assistance to the widest
extent, I indulged in a more friendly chat, and, delighted by the social
character of my host, and full of the most confident hopes for my future
proceedings, withdrew a little after midnight.

Having in this way vindicated the honourable character of the mission,
and my own, I applied myself with more cheerfulness to my studies and
inquiries, for which I found ample opportunity; for many distinguished
personages from distant countries were staying here at this time, partly
on their journey to or from Mekka, partly only attracted by the fame of
the vizier’s hospitable and bounteous character. But before I give any
account of my stay in Kúkawa previous to my setting out for Ádamáwa, I
think it well to try to impart to the reader a more lively interest in
the country to which he has thus been transferred, by laying before him
a short account of its history, as I have been able to make it out from
original documents and from oral information.

CHAPTER XXIX.

AUTHENTICITY AND GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE HISTORY OF BÓRNU.

The documents upon which the history of Bórnu is based, besides the
scanty information contained in the narratives of recent explorers, are—

1. A chronicle (“diván”), or rather the dry and sterile abridgment of a
chronicle, comprising the whole history of Bórnu, from the earliest time
down to Ibrahím, the last unfortunate offspring of the royal family, who
had just ascended the crumbling throne of the Bórnu empire when the last
English expedition arrived in that country. 6 pp. 4to.[41]

2. Two other still shorter lists of the Bórnu kings.

3. A detailed history of the first twelve years of the reign of the king
Edrís Alawóma, consisting of two parts, in my copy one of 77 and the
other of 145 pages, and written by a contemporary of the above-mentioned
king, the Imám Ahmed, son of Sofíya. Of this very interesting and
important history a copy was forwarded by the late vizier of Bórnu, Háj
Beshír ben Tiráb, at my urgent request,[42] to Her Britannic Majesty’s
Government, and is now in the Foreign Office; another copy I myself have
brought back.

4. A few facts regarding the history of this country, mentioned by Arabic
writers, such as Ebn Sáid (A.D. 1282), Ebn Batúta (A.D. 1353), Ebn
Khaldún (A.D. 1381-2), Makrízí (about A.D. 1400), and Leo Africanus (A.D.
1528).

5. A short document containing information about embassies sent to
Tripoli by some Bórnu kings, and published in the “Bulletin de la Société
Géographique de Paris,” 1849, 252 ff.

I now proceed to inquire into the character of the first of these
documents, which is the only one among them comprising the whole history
of Bórnu, and which therefore forms the basis of our tables. The most
momentous question is,—upon what authority this document rests, and
when it was compiled. As for the first point, I have been assured by
Shitíma Makarémma (a man intimately connected with the old dynasty, who
made the two copies for me, and of whom some notice will be found in my
journal) that it is a mere extract from a more voluminous work, which
he represented as still existing, but which I was unable to procure, as
it is carefully concealed. The whole business of collecting documents
and information relative to the history of the old dynasty was most
difficult, and demanded much discretion, as the new dynasty of the
Kánemíyín endeavours to obliterate as much as possible the memory of
the old Kanúri dynasty, and has assiduously destroyed all its records
wherever they could be laid hold of.

As regards the time when the chronicle, of which the manuscript in
question is a very meagre and incorrect abridgment, was written, it is
stated that the various parts of it were composed at different times,
at the beginning of every new reign; and the question is, when the
Kanúri people, or rather their ʿulama, began to commit to writing the
most important facts of their history. This question we are fortunately
enabled, from Imám Ahmed’s work, to answer satisfactorily; namely, that
there existed no written record whatever of the history of his country
previous to the king Edrís Katakarmábi, whose reign falls in the first
half of the sixteenth century of our era. For when that writer refers to
facts of the older history, he is only able to recite as his authority
oral information received from old men versed in historical tradition;
and he evidently mentions as the oldest author of a written history, the
fákih Masfárma ʿOmár ben ʿOthmán, who wrote the history of the king in
question.

The annals, therefore, of the time preceding the period of this king and
of his predecessor ʿAli Gajidéni, appear to be based entirely upon oral
information, and cannot but be liable to a certain degree of inaccuracy
as to the actions attributed to each king, the length of their respective
reigns, and even the order of succession where it was not dependent on
genealogy or descent. For it would be the extreme of hypercriticism to
deny that the royal family of Bórnu, in the middle of the sixteenth
century, could not or may not justly be supposed to have preserved with
great precision their line of descent for fifteen or twenty generations;
and in this respect the chronicle No. 1 is entirely confirmed and borne
out by Imám Ahmed, who, in the introduction to his History, gives the
pedigree of his master Edrís Alawóma up to his first royal ancestor,
while the difference in the form of the names, and one slight variance
in the order of succession, as given by these two documents, is a plain
proof that they have not been borrowed from each other, but have been
based on independent authorities.

The disagreement in question is certainly a remarkable one; but it is
easily explained. For Makrízí, in harmony with the extract from the
chronicle, names the father of the kings Edrís and Dáúd (whose reign he
places about the year 700 of the Hejra), Ibrahím, while Imám Ahmed calls
them sons of Nikále son of Ibrahím; and this is the general statement
of the natives of the country even at the present time, every educated
man knowing “Dáúd tata Nikálebe,” or Dáúd Nikálemi. The fact is, that
the name Bíri, which the chronicle attributes to the father of Ibrahím
the grandfather of Edrís and Dáúd, being a variation of the form Bíram,
is identical with Ibrahím; whence it appears that Nikále was another
name of Ibrahím the son of Bíri. The same is the case with regard to the
names Ahmed and Dúnama, which are identical, if not with regard to their
meanings, at least with regard to their applications, as well as the
names Sélma or Sélmama and ʿAbd el Jelíl.

This general harmony between the pedigree of the Bórnu kings as given by
the chronicle No. 1 and the Imám Ahmed, a learned and clever man in a
high position, and in constant connection with the court, is, I think,
very satisfactory, and the more so if we take into consideration that,
from a reason which I shall soon mention, and which at the same time is
a strong argument in favour of the authenticity of these two documents,
the pedigree as given by them is not the only one current in Bórnu, but
the line of descent and succession varies greatly in one of the two other
short chronicles which are mentioned in No. 2, while the third one,
which does not appear to make any pretensions to completeness, cannot be
taken into account here. Hence, as far as regards the line of descent
or succession, I have not thought these two lists worthy of attention,
except only with regard to the reign following that of the fifty-eighth
king, if we count the reign of the usurper Sʿaíd ʿAlí, the son of
Háj ʿOmár. For here the chronicle No. 1 has omitted, by mistake or
negligence, the well-established reign of Edrís ben ʿAli, who succeeding
to his father ʿAlí, preceded his younger brother Dúnama ben ʿAlí, and
reigned twenty years.[43]

What I have here said with regard to the authenticity of the chronicle
refers only to the line of descent and succession of the kings mentioned;
but, of course, it is quite another question, if we take into view the
length of time attributed to the reign of each succeeding king. But even
here the dates of the chronicle are confirmed in a most surprising and
satisfactory manner by the history of Imám Ahmed, who, in relating the
successful expedition of Edrís Aʿaishámi to Kánem, states that from the
time when Dáúd Nikálemi was obliged to leave his capital Njímiye, down to
the period when Edrís made his entrance into it, 122 years had elapsed.
Now, according to the dates of the chronicle, between the end of the
reign of Dáúd and the beginning of the reign of Edrís, who is expressly
stated by the historian to have undertaken that expedition in the first
year of his reign, there intervened exactly 121 years. And indeed we
see from the Imám’s account, that most people thought this was the real
length of the period, and not 122 years; so well were the educated
inhabitants of Bórnu at that time acquainted with the history of their
country. Perhaps also Imám Ahmed wishes here to refute Masfárma, the
historian of Edrís Áʿaishámi, who adhered to the general opinion.

Unfortunately, the length of the several reigns is our only guide with
regard to the chronology of this history, as neither the chronicle nor
even Imám Ahmed specifies particular years with reference to any of the
events which they mention. This is indeed a very great defect, not so
apparent in the dry chronicle as in the account of the learned priest;
and it seems almost inconceivable, as he is very particular, not only
with regard to seasons, but even to months and days, mentioning with
great exactness on what day of the month his master did so and so, and
even disputing, in this respect, slight variations of opinion. If he had
only given us the date of a single year, we should be much better off as
to the chronology of the history of Bórnu. As it is, if we put out of
account other chronological data which we are fortunately in possession
of, in order to reduce to chronology the events mentioned by the
chronicle, we can only reckon backwards the number of years attributed
by it to the reign of each successive king, commencing from the death
of Sultan Dúnama, who in the year A.H. 1233 was killed in the battle at
Ngála (written “Ghála” in Arabic, but called “Angala” by the members of
the former expedition).

If we now count together the years attributed to each reign, proceeding
in a backward order, and beginning with the end of the year H. 1233, we
obtain, in an inverse order, the following chronological dates for the
more important periods of the history of Bórnu.

                                                      A.H.    A.D.

  Beginning of the reign of Ayúma                      391    1000-1

  Beginning of the reign of Humé, the first Moslim
  king                                                 479    1086

  Reign of Dúnama Díbalámi, the warlike and daring
  king who spoiled the talisman of Bórnu           618-658    1221-1259-60

  Beginning of the reign of Ibrahím Nikálemi           707    1307

  Beginning of the reign of Edrís ben Ibrahím          754    1353

  End of the reign of Dáúd, who succumbed to the
  Bulála                                               789    1387

  End of the reign of ʿOthmán ben Edrís                795    1392-3

  The reign of ʿOmʿar, who abandoned his residence
  in Kánem altogether, ceding it to the Bulála     796-799    1393-1396

  Beginning of the reign of ʿAlí Dúnamámi              877    1472

  Beginning of the reign of Edrís Katarkamábi          911    1505

  Beginning of the reign of Edrís Alawóma              980    1572

  Beginning of the reign of Háj ʿOmár                 1036    1626-7

  Beginning of the reign of ʿAli ben Háj ʿOmár        1055    1645

Having obtained these dates, we have first to observe that to fill up
the period from Ayúma to Dhu Yazan, the presumed ancestor of the Séfuwa,
and even known as such to Abú ’l Fedá as well as to Makrízí, and whose
age (as being that of a man who predicted the coming of the prophet)
is fixed beyond all doubt, only six generations are left. This is the
circumstance which I mentioned above as speaking greatly in favour of
the authenticity of this chronicle and its genealogies, even with regard
to the more remote times. For if it had not been necessary to preserve
scrupulously a well-established line of succession, how easy it would
have been to introduce a few more individuals in order to fill up this
blank, as has been done in the other list (_b_), instead of admitting the
palpable nonsense of attributing to the two oldest kings a reign of from
two hundred and fifty to three hundred years. Even Séf and Ibrahím, the
first two princes of the line, are, I think, quite historical persons,
whose existence was so well established that a conscientious chronicler
could not change anything in the number of years attributed to the length
of their reigns.

Following, therefore, the hints given to us by the chronicle itself, we
fix the foundation of the dynasty of the Séfuwa in Kánem about the middle
of the third century after Mohammed, or a little before the year 900 of
our era. We shall afterwards return to this circumstance.

Now we shall first see how triumphantly the authenticity of the chronicle
is confirmed in every respect by the occasional remarks made by Makrízí
and Ebn Batúta with regard to the history of Bórnu.

Unfortunately, the oldest date which Makrízí (on the authority, as it
would seem, of Ebn Sʿaíd) mentioned with regard to Kánem, namely, an
expedition made by its king into the fertile districts of Mábiná in the
year H. 650, cannot be used as a sufficient test of the authenticity of
the chronicle, as the historian does not mention the name of the king;
but the deed itself harmonizes exceedingly well with the warlike and
enterprising character of Dúnama Díbalámi, whose reign, according to our
chronicle, falls between the years 618 and 658. Just the same is to be
said of the fact mentioned by Ebn Khaldún, who, in his valuable history
of the Berbers, which has been recently made accessible to all, relates
the interesting fact that, among other valuable presents, a giraffe was
sent by the King of Kánem (to whom even at that early date he gives
the title of “master of Bórnu”) to Abú ʿAbdallah el Mostánser the king
of Tunis, in the year of the Hejra 655. The same historian, in another
passage of his work, referring to the year 656, mentions again the king
of Kánem as having caused the death of a son of Kárakosh el Ghozzi
el Modáfferi, the well-known adventurous chieftain who had tried to
establish himself in Wadán.

But fortunately we have other data which afford us a very fair test.
According to Makrízí, not long after the close of the seventh century
of the Hejra (fi hedúd sennet sebʿa mayet), the king of Kánem was Háj
Ibrahím; after him reigned his son, el Háj Edrís—the historian does not
say expressly that he immediately succeeded his father; then Dáúd, the
brother of Edrís, and another son of Ibrahím; then ʿOmár, the son of
Dáúd’s elder brother Háj Edrís; and then ʿOthmán, the brother of the
former, and another son of Edrís. Makrízí adds that this last-named king
reigned shortly before A.H. 800; and then he states that the inhabitants
of Kánem revolted against the successors of Ibrahím, and made themselves
independent, but that Bórnu remained their kingdom.

All these dates given by Makrízí, as may be seen from the few most
important events which I have extracted from the chronicle, are in most
surprising harmony with the information conveyed in a dry and sterile but
uncorrupted way by the latter. Notwithstanding the slight discrepancy in
the order of succession of the later kings, whose reign was of very short
duration, and whose relationship is rather perplexing, is it possible to
find a harmony more complete than this, if we take into consideration the
only way in which Makrízí could have obtained his information, that is to
say, from merchants or pilgrims visiting Egypt on their way to Mekka?

We now come to Ebn Batúta; and we again find the same surprising harmony
between the fact regarding Bórnu, as mentioned by him, and the dates of
the chronicle. The famous and enterprising traveller of Tangiers, on
his return-journey from his visit to Western Sudán, left the capital of
Mélle or Máli (that is, Mungo Park’s Jára) the 22nd of Moharrem, 754,
and, proceeding by way of Timbúktu or Túmbutu, and thence down the Ísa
or Niger to Gágho or Gógo, and thence to Tekádda,[44] in speaking about
the copper found in the mines near this town, relates that the bars made
of it were exported to Góber and Rágha (or rather Ragháy), and also to
Bórnu, and then adds the interesting fact that the name of the ruling
king of the latter country was Edrís.

Now if we follow implicitly the dates of the chronicle, Edrís ben Ibrahím
(Nikále) ascended the throne in that very year (753) when, according
to this precious and unimpeachable testimony of the illustrious and
intelligent traveller, he actually occupied the throne.

The very remarkable and really surprising harmony here shown to exist
between the chronicle and the dates which have come to our knowledge from
other sources, will, I hope, give to any unprejudiced mind some degree of
confidence in the authenticity of that document, and will make him aware
of its superiority over the information of a man like Leo Africanus, or
rather Hasen Ebn Mohammed el Wasas, who, though he undoubtedly has, and
will always have, the merit of having given to Europe a clear general
view of the political and linguistic groups of Central Africa, yet, on
account of the manner in which his report was drawn up (merely from
memory, after the lapse of many years), cannot be a decisive authority on
any special circumstance. Hence, when he states that the name of the king
of Bórnu, at the time when he visited the country, was Abraham (Ibrahím),
we may confidently assume that he is wrong, and that he speaks of the
illustrious conqueror ʿAlí ben Dúnama, who restored peace and glory to
that distracted country, and, on account of his warlike character and his
various expeditions, obtained the surname el Gházi. I shall return to
this subject in the chronological table, in speaking of the reign of ʿAlí
ben Dúnama.

As for the document mentioned above as No. 5, it contains a few valuable
dates with regard to those Bórnu kings who reigned near the time when
the author obtained his information in Tripoli, while for the older
times, about which the people could only inform him “_par tradition des
leurs pères_,” his information is of little value. The most important
dates which it contains are those which have reference to the time of
the accession to the throne of the three Bórnu kings, ʿAbdallah ben
Dúnama, Háj ʿOmár, and Háj ʿAlí; and these vary but little from the dates
computed from the chronicle, and serve therefore to confirm its accuracy.

However, it is not my design to vindicate this chronicle from all
possibility of error; but my object is to show that its general
character, dry and meagre as it is, has the strongest claim to
authenticity. Indeed I am sure that it can be fully relied upon,
all uncertainty being reduced to a space of one or two years; I may
therefore be allowed to assert that the chronological table, which I
shall give in the Appendix, is something more than a mere fairy tale.
But in this place, I think it well to offer a few general remarks on the
characteristic features of the history of Bórnu.

I have first to speak of the origin of the Séfuwa or Dúguwa. We have
already seen that the chronology of the Bórnu people, if palpable
absurdities be left out of consideration, does not carry their history
further down than the latter half of the ninth century of our era.
Accordingly there can be no further question as to whether Séf was really
the son of the celebrated Dhu Yazan, and identical with Séf Dhu Yazan,