The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia, and the Sword Hunters of the Hamran Arabs

On the following morning we were off before sunrise, and marched rapidly over a good path through low forest, at the foot of a range of hills; and after a journey of twenty miles, during which we had passed several small villages, and many brooks that flowed from the mountains, we arrived at our old friend, the Atbara river, at the sharp angle as it issues from the mountains. At this place it was in its infancy. The noble Atbara whose course we had tracked for hundreds of weary miles, and whose tributaries we had so carefully examined, was a second-class mountam torrent, about equal to the Royan, and not to be named in comparison with the Salaam or Angrab. The power of the Atbara depended entirely upon the western drainage of the Abyssinian Alps: of itself it was insignificant, until aided by the great arteries of the mountain chain. The junction of the Salaam at once changed its character; and the Settite or Taccazzy completed its importance as the great river of Abyssinia, that has washed down the fertile soil of those regions to create the Delta of Lower Egypt; and to perpetuate that Delta by annual deposits, that ARE NOW FORMING A NEW EGYPT BENEATH THE WATERS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. We had seen the Atbara a bed of glaring sand—a mere continuation of the burning desert that surrounded its course, fringed by a belt of withered trees, like a monument sacred to the memory of a dead river. We had seen the sudden rush of waters when, in the still night, the mysterious stream had invaded the dry bed, and swept all before it like an awakened giant; we knew at that moment "the rains were falling in Abyssinia," although the sky above us was without a cloud. We had subsequently witnessed that tremendous rainfall, and seen the Atbara at its grandest flood. We had traced each river, and crossed each tiny stream, that fed the mighty Atbara from the mountain chain, and we now, after our long journey, forded the Atlara in its infancy, hardly knee deep, over its rocky bed of about sixty yards width, and camped in the little village of Toganai, on the rising ground upon the opposite side. It was evening, and we sat upon an angarep among the lovely hills that surrounded us, and looked down upon the Atbara for the last time, as the sun sank behind the rugged mountain of Ras el Feel (the elephant's head). Once more I thought of that wonderful river Nile, that could flow for ever through the exhausting deserts of sand, while the Atbara, during the summer months, shrank to a dry skeleton, although the powerful affluents, the Salaam and the Settite, never ceased to flow, every drop of their waters was evaporated by the air and absorbed by the desert sand in the bed of the Atbara, two hundred miles above its junction with the Nile!

The Atbara exploration was completed; and I looked forward to the fresh enterprise of new rivers and lower latitudes, that should unravel the mystery of the Nile!

CHAPTER XX

ARRIVAL AT METEMMA, OR GALLABAT

WE left the village of Toganai at 5 A.M. and, after a rapid march of sixteen miles, we came in view of Metemma, or Gallabat, in the bottom of a valley surrounded by hills, and backed on the east by the range of mountains of which Nahoot Guddabi formed the extremity of a spur. As we descended the valley, we perceived great crowds of people in and about the town, which, in appearance, was merely a repetition of Katariff. It was market-day, and as we descended the hill and arrived in the scene below, with our nine camels heavily laden with the heads and horns of a multitude of different beasts, from the gaping jaws of hippopotami to the vicious-looking heads of rhinoceros and buffalo, while the skins of lions and various antelopes were piled above masses of the much-prized hide of the rhinoceros, we were beset by crowds of people who were curious to know whence so strange a party had appeared. We formed a regular procession through the market, our Tokrooris feeling quite at home among so many of their brethren. Upon our arrival at the extremity of the valley, we were horribly disgusted at the appearance of the water. A trifling stream of about two inches in depth trickled over a bed of sand, shaded by a grove of trees. The putrefying bodies of about half a dozen donkeys, three or four camels, and the remains of a number of horses, lay in and about the margin of the water. Nevertheless, the natives had scraped small holes in the sand, as filters, and thus they were satisfied with this poisonous fluid; in some of these holes, the women were washing their filthy clothes. I immediately determined to follow up stream, until I should arrive at some clear spot above these horrible impurities, that were sufficient to create a pestilence. Ascending the rising ground, I found on the summit, at about half a mile distant, an immense sycamore (Ficus sycamorus), whose green and wide-spreading branches afforded a tempting shade. Not far from this spot, I found the bed of a dry torrent that flowed into the poisoned stream of Gallabat. I ordered my men to dig a deep hole in the sand, which fortunately discovered clear and good-flavoured water. We immediately pitched tents close to the sycamore. From this elevation, about a hundred and fifty feet above Gallabat, we had a beautiful view of the amphitheatre of hills and mountains, while the crowded town lay below, as in the bottom of a basin. The Atbara was not far distant in the ravine between the hill ranges, as it had made a sharp angle at Toganai, and altered its direction to the north.

Our arrival had made some stir in Gallabat, and many people had followed us, and stared with much curiosity at the collection of hunting trophies. Among our visitors was an Abyssinian merchant, Jusef, whose acquaintance I had formerly made at Cassala; he was an agreeable and well-informed man, who had been in Paris and London and spoke French and English tolerably. I accompanied him for a stroll through the market, and was introduced by him to a number of the principal Abyssinian merchants. The principal trade of Gallabat, which is the market-place for all commerce between Abyssinia and the Egyptian provinces, is in cotton, coffee, bees'-wax, and hides. Coffee is brought in large quantities by the Abyssinian merchants, who buy cotton in exchange, for the manufacture of clothes according to their own fashion. I bought a quantity of excellent coffee at the rate of two dollars for thirty-five pounds, equal to about two and three-quarters pence a pound. Sheds were arranged in lines; these were occupied by the coffee merchants with their stores, while a great stock of cotton in bales, to the number of some thousand, were piled in rows in an open space. Not far from the mass of goods was a confusion of camels, asses, and mules that had formed the means of transport. I now met an Italian merchant, with whom I subsequently became intimately acquainted, Signor Angelo Bolognesi—he had arrived from Khartoum to purchase coffee and bees'-wax. We were delighted to meet a civilized European after so long an absence. For some months we had had little intercourse with any human beings beyond the hunters that had composed our party, in countries that were so wild and savage, that the print of a naked foot upon the sand had instinctively brought the rifle upon full cock. Our European society was quickly increased: two German missionaries had arrived, en ronte for an establishment that had been set on foot in the heart of Abyssinia, under the very nose of the King Theodore, who regarded missionaries as an unsavoury odour. Both were suffering from fever, having foolishly located themselves in a hut close to the foul stench of dead animals on the margin of the polluted stream, the water of which they drank. One of these preachers was a blacksmith, whose iron constitution had entirely given way, and the little strength that remained, he exhausted in endless quotations of texts from the Bible, which he considered applicable to every trifling event or expression. I regretted that I could not agree with him in the propriety of invading Abyssinia with Bible extracts, as the natives attached as great importance to their own particular form of Christianity, as any other of the numerous sects that unhappily divide that beautiful religion into schisms; any fresh dogma introduced by strangers might destroy the union of the Abyssinian Church, and would be not only a source of annoyance to the priesthood, but would most probably influence them and the king against all Europeans.

The blacksmith assured me that the special mission upon which he was employed was the conversion of the Abyssinian Jews. I suggested that we had a few Jews in England, that might offer a fair field for an experiment at home, before we commenced at so distant a country as Abyssinia; but I could not persuade the blacksmith, whose head was as hard as his anvil; he had fully persuaded himself that the word of God (according to HIS OWN translation of it) was the hammer with which, selon son metier, he was to drive his views of the truth into the thick skulls of the people. If he could twist iron, and hammer a ploughshare into a sword, or reverse the form, why should he be unable to effect a change in their opinions? It was perfectly useless to continue the argument; but I prophesied trouble, as the king was already discontented, and an influx of missionaries would not improve his humour. I advised him to stick to his trade, which would obtain for him far more respect than preaching. He replied, that "the word of God must be preached in all countries; that the Apostle Paul had encountered dangers and difficulties, but, nevertheless, he preached to, and converted the heathen," &c.

Whenever I have met an exceedingly ignorant missionary, he has invariably compared himself to the Apostle Paul. In half an hour I found, that I was conversing with St. Paul in the person of the blacksmith. Whether this excellent apostle is among the captives in Abyssinia at the present moment, I do not know; but, if so, their memory of the Bible will be continally refreshed by quotations, which fly from the tongue of the smith like sparks from his anvil. His companion was very ill, and incapable of moving. I went to see the poor fellow upon several occasions, and found him suffering from dysentery and diseased liver. These excellent but misguided people had a first-rate medicine chest, filled with useful drugs and deadly poisons, that had been provided for them cheaply, by the agent for their society at Cairo, who had purchased the stock in trade of a defunct doctor. This had been given to the missionaries, together with the caution that many of the bottles were not labelled, and that some contained poison. Thus provided with a medicine chest that they did not comprehend, and with a number of Bibles printed in the Tigre language which they did not understand, they were prepared to convert the Jews, who could not read. The Bibles were to be distributed as the word of God, like "seed thrown upon the wayside;" and the medicines, I trust, were to be kept locked up in the chest, as their distribution might have been fatal to the poor Jews. These worthy and well-meaning missionaries were prepared to operate mentally and physically upon the Abyssinians, to open their minds as well as their bowels; but as their own (not their minds) were out of order, I was obliged to assist them by an examination of their medicine-chest, which they had regarded with such dread and suspicion that, although dangerously ill, they had not dared to attempt a dose. This medicine-chest accompanied them like a pet dog suspected of hydrophobia, which they did not like to part with, and were yet afraid to touch. I labelled the poisons, and weighed out some doses, that in a few days considerably relieved them; at the same time I advised the missionaries to move to a healthier locality, and to avoid the putrid water.

On the day following our arrival, I paid a visit to the Sheik of Gallabat—Jemma. He was ill, as were most people. They were too much accustomed to the use of the filthy water to trouble themselves about a pure supply; thus a frightful amount of sickness was prevalent among all classes.

The Sheik Jemma was a Tokroori; and as these people hate the Turks or Egyptians, although fanatical Mussulmans, he was exceedingly cold when he read my firman, that I had produced as a passport. He replied to my demand for assistance in men and camels, that "this was Abyssinia, and the firman of the Viceroy of Egypt was a bad introduction, as the Egyptians forced them to pay tribute at the point of the bayonet, although they had no right to enter this country;" they paid taxes willingly to the King of Abyssinia, as he had a right to exact them. I explained that I was an Englishman, and no Turk, but that, as I had travelled through the dominions of the Viceroy, I had been favoured with the sign-manual of his Excellency Said Pasha, and I narrated in a few words the object of our expedition. He paid very little attention, and merely asked me if I could send him some goat's milk, as he was very ill. I was astonished at such a request, as there were great numbers of these animals in the neighbourhood; but he explained that his doctor had ordered him to drink the milk of a black goat, and he had heard that I had two of that colour. I promised him a supply, and he agreed to assist me in engaging camels and fresh men, as I had formerly arranged with my people that their term of service should expire upon our arrival at Gallabat or Metemma. The latter name merely signifies "the capital:" as many places are designated by the same word, it creates much confusion.

The Sheik Jemma was the successor of Hamed, who formerly governed the Tokrooris. The Egyptians had captured Hamed three years previously, during which time he had been imprisoned in Cairo. Upon his release, he wrote to Jemma (who had governed pro tempore) to prepare for his arrival; but Jemma had no intention of vacating his seat, and he replied by an impertinent message. Hamed immediately applied to the Governor-General of the Soudan for assistance, declaring himself to be the subject of Egypt. Having obtained a powerful force, he advanced upon Gallabat, and attacked Jemma, who came out to meet him. This happened about three months before our arrival. In a pitched battle, the Tokrooris were defeated with great loss, and Jemma, with the greater portion of the population, sought the assistance of Theodore, the king of Abyssinia. Theodore summoned the rival chiefs before him, and decided that, as Hamed had appealed to Egypt for assistance, he should lose his seat, and remain a prisoner in Abyssinia. Accordingly, Jemma was declared to be the governor of the town of Gallabat, and the sheik over all Tokrooris.

The Tokrooris are natives of Darfur, who were converted to Mahometanism after the conquest of Northern Africa by the Arabs. They are governed by a sultan in their own country, who strictly prohibits the entrance of white men; thus Darfur remains impenetrable to civilization. That country is extremely arid and unfruitful; thus, as the pilgrims journeyed towards Mecca from their own inhospitable soil, they passed through a land flowing with milk and honey, with excellent pasturage and fertile soil, in the district of Gallabat. As first settlements of men have always been caused by some local attraction and advantage, so the Tokroori pilgrims, on their return from Mecca, originally rested from the fatigues of their journey in the neighbourhood of Gallabat, as a country preferable to their own. The establishment of a few settlers formed a nucleus, and, as successive pilgrimages to Mecca were annually undertaken from Darfur, the colony rapidly increased by the settlement of the returned pilgrims. Thus commenced the establishment of a new tribe upon foreign soil, and, as the numbers of settlers increased to an important amount, permission was granted by the King of Abyssinia that they should occupy this portion of his territory, upon payment of taxes as his subjects. The Tokrooris are a fine, powerful race, exceedingly black, and of the negro type, but differing from all negroes that I have hitherto known, as they are particularly industrious. They are great drunkards, very quarrelsome, and are bad servants, as, although they will work hard for themselves, they will do as little as they can for their master. They are seldom unemployed; and, while the Arab may be seen lazily stretched under the shade of a tree, the Tokroori will be spinning cotton, or working at something that will earn a few piastres. Even during the march, I have frequently seen my men gather the cotton from some deserted bush, and immediately improvise a spindle, by sticking a reed through a piece of camel-dung, with which they would spin the wool into thread, as they walked with the caravan. My Tokrooris had never been idle during the time they had been in my service, but they were at work in the camp during every spare minute, either employed in making sandals from elephant's or buffalo's hide, or whips and bracelets from the rhinoceros' skin, which they cleverly polished. Upon our arrival at Gallabat, they had at least a camel-load of all kinds of articles they had manufactured. On the following morning I found them sitting in the market-place, having established stalls, at which they were selling all the various trophies of their expedition—fat, hides, whips, sandals, bracelets, &c.

The district inhabited by the Tokrooris is about forty miles in length, including a population of about twenty thousand. Throughout the country, they have cultivated cotton to a considerable extent, notwithstanding the double taxes enforced by both Abyssinians and Egyptians, and their gardens are kept with extreme neatness. Although of the negro type, the Tokrooris have not the flat nose; the lips are full, but not to be compared with those of the negroes of West Africa; neither is the jaw prognathous. The men are extremely independent in manner. They are armed with lances of various patterns; their favourite weapon is a horrible instrument barbed with a diabolical intention, as it can neither be withdrawn nor pushed completely through the body, but, if once in the flesh, there it must remain. This is called the chimbane; it is usually carried with two other lances with plain heads. The Tokrooris despise shields; therefore, in spite of their superior personal strength, they would be no match for the Arabs.

There is a curious weapon, the trombash, that is used by these people, somewhat resembling the Australian boomerang; it is a piece of flat, hard wood, about two feet in length, the end of which turns sharply at an angle of about 30 degrees. They throw this with great dexterity, and inflict severe wounds with the hard and sharp edge; but, unlike the boomerang, the weapon does not return to the thrower.

The women are very powerful, but exceedingly plain. They are good workers, and may be constantly seen either spinning or weaving; they keep their huts remarkably clean, and are rarely idle.

The greater portion of the cotton exhibited in the market of Gallabat is produced by the Tokrooris; it is uncleaned, and simply packed in mat bales of a hundred pounds weight, which at that date (April 1862) sold for one dollar each.

Much might be done to improve these peculiar people. Were the frontiers of Abyssinia positively determined, and security insured to the new settlers, the whole of that magnificent country through which we had travelled between the Settite and Gallabat might be peopled and cultivated. In many countries, both soil and climate may be favourable for the cultivation of cotton; but such natural advantages may be neutralized either by the absence of population, or by the indolence of the natives. The Tokroori is a most industrious labourer; and, were he assured of protection and moderate taxation, he would quickly change the character of these fertile lands, that are now uninhabited, except by wild animals. If the emigration of Tokrooris from Darfur were encouraged, and advantages offered to settlers, by grants of land for a short term exempt from taxation, at a future time to bear a certain rate per acre, a multitude of emigrants would quit their own inhospitable country, and would people the beautiful waste lands of the Settite and the Salaam. These countries would produce an important supply of cotton, that might be delivered at Souakim at an exceedingly low rate, and find a market in England. Not only would the Tokrooris benefit by the change, but, should it be decided that the Abyssinian frontier, instead of extending to the Atbara river, should be confined to the ridge of the great mountain chain, the revenues of Upper Egypt might be enormously increased by the establishment of a Tokroori colony, as proposed.

I paid all my Tokrooris their wages, and I gave them an entertainment after their own taste, by purchasing several enormous bowls of honey wine. The Abyssinians are celebrated for this drink, which is known as "tetch." It is made of various strengths; that of good quality should contain, in ten parts, two of honey and eight of water; but, for a light wine, one of honey and nine of water is very agreeable. There is a plant of an intoxicating quality known by the Abyssinians as "jershooa," the leaves of which are added to the tetch while in a state of fermentation; a strong infusion of these leaves will render the tetch exceedingly heady, but without this admixture the honey wine is by no means powerful. In our subsequent journey in Central Africa, I frequently made the tetch by a mixture of honey and water, flavoured with wild thyme and powdered ginger; fermentation was quickly produced by the addition of yeast from the native beer, and the wine, after six or eight days, became excellent, but never very strong, as we could not procure the leaves of the jershooa.

My Arabs and Tokrooris enjoyed themselves amazingly, and until late at night they were playing rababas (guitars) and howling in thorough happiness; but on the following morning at sunrise I was disturbed by Wat Gamma, who complained that during the night some person had stolen three dollars, that had for some months been carefully sewn up in his clothes; he exhibited the garment that bore the unmistakeable impression of the dollars, and the freshly-cut ends of the thread proved that it had been ripped open very recently. Of course I was magistrate, and in all cases I was guided by my own code of laws, being at some thousand miles from an Act of Parliament.

Wat Gamma had no suspicion of any person in particular, but his money had evidently been stolen.

"Who was drunk last night?" I inquired. "We were all drunk," replied the plaintiff. "Who was very drunk, and who was the least drunk?" I inquired. This entailed a discussion among the people who had now assembled. It appeared that most of them had been "very drunk;" others only a little drunk; and one old white-headed Arab camel-driver had been perfectly sober, as he never drank anything but water. This was old Mini, a splendid specimen of a fine patriarchal Arab; he declared that he had not even joined the party. Wat Gamma had left his garment rolled up in the mat upon which he usually slept; this was in the same spot where the camel-drivers lived, and where old Mini declared he was fast asleep during the drinking bout.

I had my suspicions, but to express them would have defeated the chance of discovery. I therefore adopted my usual rule in cases of theft. I counted my people: nine camel-men, five Tokrooris, Taher Noor, and Bacheet; in all sixteen, without Wat Gamma. Three dollars were sixty piastres,—sixty divided by sixteen equalled three piastres and thirty paras. Thus I condemned the whole party to make up the loss, by each paying his share of the amount stolen, unless the thief could be discovered.

This plan was generally successful, as the thief was the only man contented with the arrangement. Every innocent man became a detective, as he was determined not to pay a fine for another's theft. A tremendous row took place, every one was talking and no one listening, and the crowd went away from my court of justice, determined to search the affair to the bottom.

In about half an hour they all returned, with the exception of old Mini; they had searched everywhere, and had found three dollars concealed in the stuffing of a camel's saddle, that belonged to Mini. He was the sober man, who had been asleep while the others were drinking. I considered the case proved; and Mini, having confessed, requested that I would flog him rather than deliver him to the Tokroori authorities, who wonld imprison him and take away his camel. I told him that I would not disgrace his tribe by flogging one of their oldest men, but that I should take him before the Sheik of Gallabat, and fine him the amount that he had stolen. This I immediately did, and Mini handed over to Jemma, with reluctance, three dollars for the poor-box of Gallabat, or the private pocket of the sheik, as the case may be.