CHAPTER XVII.THE ETHIOPIAN NILE.Fortunate Travel—The America—Ethiopian Scenery—The Atbara River—Damer—A Melon Patch—Agriculture—The Inhabitants—Change of Scenery—The First Hippopotamus—Crocodiles—Effect of My Map—The Raïs and Sailors—Arabs in Ethiopia—Ornamental Scars—Beshir—The Slave Bakhita—We Approach Meroë.
Fortunate Travel—The America—Ethiopian Scenery—The Atbara River—Damer—A Melon Patch—Agriculture—The Inhabitants—Change of Scenery—The First Hippopotamus—Crocodiles—Effect of My Map—The Raïs and Sailors—Arabs in Ethiopia—Ornamental Scars—Beshir—The Slave Bakhita—We Approach Meroë.
“Fair is that land as evening skies,And cool—though in the depth it liesOf burning Africa.”—Wordsworth.
“Fair is that land as evening skies,And cool—though in the depth it liesOf burning Africa.”—Wordsworth.
“Fair is that land as evening skies,And cool—though in the depth it liesOf burning Africa.”—Wordsworth.
“Fair is that land as evening skies,
And cool—though in the depth it lies
Of burning Africa.”—Wordsworth.
The voyage from Berber to Khartoum was another link in my chain of fortunate travel The Ethiopian Nile seemed to me more beautiful than the Egyptian; at least, the vegetation was richer, the air milder and sweeter, the water purer, and to crown all, the north-wind unfailing. Day and night there was a fresh, steady breeze, carrying us smoothly against the current, at the precise rate of speed which is most pleasant in a sailing craft—three to four miles an hour. The temperature was that of an American June, the nights deliciously mild and sweet, and the full moon shone with a splendor unknown in northern latitudes. I was in perfect health of body, and suffered no apprehension or anxiety for the future to disturb my happy frame of mind.
El Mekheyref looked very picturesque in the soft clearlight of the last afternoon hour, as I sailed away from it. The Bey’s mansion and the mosque rose conspicuously above the long lines of clay walls, and groups of luxuriant date-trees in the gardens supplied the place of minarets and spires. Both shores, above the city, were in a high state of cultivation, and I passed many thriving villages before dusk. Even under the moon, the corn-fields on either hand were green and bright. I was installed in a temporary cabin, formed of my tent-canvas, stretched over a frame of palm-sticks, erected on the narrow poop-deck. Achmet and Ali took possession of the hold, which they occupied as kitchen and store-room. The raïs, sailors, and the two beautiful sheep which the Bey gave me, were grouped on the forecastle. On this first evening, the men, fatigued by their extra labors on my account, were silent, and I was left to the full enjoyment of the scene. The waves rippled pleasantly against the prow of theAmerica; the frogs and crickets kept up a concert along the shore, and thezikzak, or crocodile-bird, uttered his sharp, twittering note at intervals. Hours passed thus, before I was willing to close my eyes.
The landscapes next morning were still more beautiful. The Nile was as broad as in Lower Egypt, flowing between banks of the most brilliant green. Long groves of palms behind the shore, shut out from view the desert tracts beyond, and my voyage all day was a panorama of the richest summer scenery. Early in the forenoon I passed the mouth of the Atbara, the ancient Astaboras, and the first tributary stream which the traveller meets on his journey from the Mediterranean. Its breadth is about one-third that of the main river, but the volume of water must be in a much smaller proportion. The water is a clear, bright green, and its junction with thedarker Nile is distinctly marked. I could look up the Atbara for about a mile, to where it curved out of sight between high green banks covered with flowering mimosas. It was a charming piece of river scenery, and I longed to follow the stream upward through the wild domains of the Hallengas and Hadendoas, through the forests and jungles of Takka and Schangalla, to where, an impetuous torrent, it foams through the Alpine highlands of Samen, under the eternal snows of Abba-Jaret and Amba-Hai. In Abyssinia it bears the name of Tacazze, but afterwards through the greater part of its course, is called the Atbara (and the country it waters, Dar Atbara), except at its junction with the Nile, where the natives name it El-bahr Mogran.
Two or three hours later we reached the large town of Damer, which gives its name to the point of land between the two rivers. It is a quarter of a mile from the shore, and is a collection of mud buildings, scattered through a grove of sont trees. My sailors stopped to get some mats, and I climbed the bank to look at the place, but there was nothing in the view to tempt me to enter. During the day we stopped at an island in the river, to buy some vegetables. Two men were guarding a large patch of ripe melons and cucumbers, behind which extended fields of dourra, divided by hedges of a kind of shrub cypress, all overgrown with a purple convolvulus in flower, and a wild gourd-vine, with bright yellow blossoms. In wandering through the luxuriant mazes of vegetation, I came upon a dwelling of the natives—a nest or arbor, scooped out of a thick clump of shrubs, and covered with dry branches. It resembled themilpas, or brush-huts of the Mexican rancheros. The only furniture was a frame of palm-sticks, servingas a divan, and four stones, arranged so as to form a fireplace. On returning to the shore, I found Achmet in dispute with the two men. He had taken some melons, for which he offered them two and a half piastres. They demanded more, but as he had purchased melons for less in El Mekheyref, he refused, and giving them the money, took the melons perforce. “Well,” said they, “you are our masters, and we must submit;” but they would sell no more to my sailors. The latter, however, procured a bowl of treacle, made of dates, and some sour milk, at another hut, and were contented therewith. The bean-fields along the shore had just been trampled down by a hippopotamus, whose huge footprints we saw in the soft mud near the water.
All day, we sailed between shores of vegetation, of the ripest green. Both banks of the river, through this region, are studded with water-wheels, whose creaking ceases not by day nor by night. It was pleasant to see the strings of jars ascending and descending, and to hear the cool plashing of the precious blood of the Nile, as it poured into the branching veins which are the life of that teeming soil. The wheels were turned by oxen, driven by Dinka slaves, who sang vociferous melodies the while, and the water was conveyed to fields distant from the river in the hollow trunks of the doum-tree.
There, where I expected to sail through a wilderness, I found a garden. Ethiopia might become, in other hands, the richest and most productive part of Africa. The people are industrious and peaceable, and deserve better masters. Their dread of the Turks is extreme, and so is their hatred. I stopped one evening at a little village on the western bank. Thesailors were sent to the houses to procure fowls and eggs, and after a long time two men appeared, bringing, as they said, the only chicken in the place. They came up slowly, stooped and touched the ground, and then laid their hands on their heads, signifying that they were as dust before my feet. Achmet paid them the thirty paràs they demanded, and when they saw that the supposed Turks had no disposition to cheat them, they went back and brought more fowls. Travellers who go by the land routes give the people an excellent character for hospitality. I was informed that it is almost impossible to buy anything, even when double the value of the article is tendered, but by asking for it as a favor, they will cheerfully give whatever they have.
When I crept out of my tent on the third morning, the features of the scenery were somewhat changed. A blue chain of hills, which we had passed in the night, lay behind us, and a long, graceful mountain range rose on the right, broken by a pass which was cut through it at right angles to its course. The mountains retreated out of my horizon during the forenoon, but in the afternoon again approached nearly to the water’s edge, on the eastern bank. They were of a dark-red color, exhibiting a broken, mound-like formation. We passed several islands during the day—beds of glorious vegetation. The sakias were turning at intervals of a hundred yards or less, and the rustling fields of wheat and dourra seemed bursting with the fulness of their juices. I now began to notice that warm vermilion tinge of the clouds, which is frequently exhibited near the Equator, but is nowhere so striking as in Central Africa. Lying heavily along the horizon, in the warm hours of the day, they appeared to glow with a dead, smoulderingfire, like brands which are soft white ashes on the outside, but living coals within.
On the same day I saw the first hippopotamus. The men discerned him about a quarter of a mile off, as he came up to breathe, and called my attention to him. Our vessel was run towards him, and the sailors shouted, to draw his attention: “How is your wife, old boy?” “Is your son married yet?” and other like exclamations. They insisted upon it that his curiosity would be excited by this means, and he would allow us to approach. I saw him at last within a hundred yards, but only the enormous head, which was more than three feet in breadth across the ears. He raised it with a tremendous snort, opening his huge mouth at the same time, and I thought I had never seen a more frightful-looking monster. He came up in our wake, after we had passed, and followed us for some time. Directly afterwards we spied five crocodiles on a sand-bank. One of them was of a grayish-yellow color, and upward of twenty feet in length. We approached quietly to within a few yards of them, when my men raised their poles and shouted. The beasts started from their sleep and dashed quickly into the water, the big yellow one striking so violently against our hull, that I am sure he went off with a head-ache. The natives have many superstitions concerning the hippopotamus, and related to me some astonishing examples of his cunning and sagacity. Among others, they asserted that an Arab woman, at Abou-Hammed, went down to the river to wash some clothes, once upon a time. She laid the garments upon some smooth stones, and was engaged in trampling them with her feet, when a huge hippopotamus thrust his head out of the river, and after watching her for some time, made for the shore. The womanfled in terror leaving the clothes behind her; whereupon the beast immediately took her place, and pounded away so vigorously with his feet, that in a short time there was not left a fragment as big as your hand.
On making inquiries for the ruins of Meroë, which we were then approaching, the raïs only knew that there were some “beioot kadeem” (ancient houses) near the village of Bedjerowiyeh, which we would probably reach that night. As I found on my map a name which nearly corresponded to that of the village, I had no doubt that this was Meroë, and gave orders that the boat should halt until the next day. The raïs was greatly surprised at my knowing the names of all the towns along the river, seeing that I had never been there before. I showed him my map, and told him that I knew from it, the name of every mountain, every village, and every river, from Cairo to Abyssinia. The men crowded around and inspected it with the utmost astonishment, and when I pointed out to them the location of Mecca, and read them the names of all the villages as far as Khartoum, they regarded it with an expression of reverential awe. “Wallah!” exclaimed the raïs: “this is truly a wonderful Frank!”
My raïs, whose name was Bakhid, belonged, with his men, to the Nubian tribe of Màhass, below Dongola. They were tall, well-formed men, with straight features and high cheek-bones, but the lips were thicker than those of the Arab tribes of Ethiopia. The latter are of almost pure Shemitic blood, and are descended from families which emigrated into Africa from the Hedjaz, seven or eight centuries ago. This accounts for the prevalence and purity of the Arab language in these regions. The descendants of the Djaaleyn, or tribe of BeniKoreish, of Yemen, are still to be found in the country of the Atbara, and there are those in Ethiopia, who claim to be descendants from the line of the Abbasides and the Ommiades. There has been very little intermixture with the negro races beyond Sennaar, who are looked upon as little better than wild beasts. The Arabic language is spoken from the Red Sea to the borders of Dar-Fūr and Bornou, and according to Burckhardt, the prevalent idioms are those of Hedjaz, in Arabia. The distinction between the descendants of the old Arab stock, and those who, like the Ababdehs and Bishàrees, belong to the native African races, is obvious to the most careless observer. The latter, however, must not be confounded with the Negro race, from which they differ still more widely.
Raïs Bakhid had with him a son named Ibrahim—a boy of twelve. His head was shaven so as to leave a circular tuft of hair on the crown; large silver rings hung from his ears, and each cheek was adorned with four broad scars—three horizontal, and one vertical,—which were produced by gashing the skin with a knife, and then raising the flesh so as to prevent the edges from uniting. All the Nubian tribes are scarred in the same way, frequently upon the breast and back as well as the face, and the number and position of the marks is generally a token of the particular tribe to which the person belongs. The slaves brought from the mountains of Fazogl, on the Abyssinian frontier, have a still greater profusion of these barbaric ornaments. I had another Mahassee on board—a fellow of five and twenty, named Beshir, who kept all the others in a continual laugh with his droll sayings. He spoke the dialect of his tribe, not a word of which I could understand, but his face and voice were so comical, that I laughed involuntarily,whenever he spoke. He was a graceless fellow, given to all sorts of debauchery, and was never so happy as when he could drink his fill ofom bilbil; (the “mother of nightingales,”) as the beer of the country is called, because he who drinks it, sings.
Another curious character was an old woman named Bakhita, a slave of the owner of the vessel, who acted as cook for the sailors. She sat squatted on the forward deck all day, hideously and nakedly ugly, but performed her duties so regularly and with such a contented face, laughing heartily at all the jokes which the men made at her expense, that I soon learned to tolerate her presence, which was at first disgusting. She was a native of the mountains of Dar-Fūr, but had been captured by the slave-hunters when a child. She was in Shendy on the night when Ismaïl Pasha and his soldiers were burned to death by Mek Nemr, in the year 1822. But with all my questioning, she could give no account of the scene, and it was a marvel that she remembered it at all. Life was to her a blank page, and what one day might write upon it, the next day erased. She sat from morning till night, grinding the dourra between two flat stones, precisely as the Mexican women grind their maize, occasionally rubbing her hands upon her woolly head to rid them of the paste. Her only trouble was my white sheep, which, in its search after food, would deliberately seize her mealy top-knots and begin to chew them. Her yells, at such times, were the signal for a fresh attack of Beshir’s drollery. Yet old, and ugly, and imbruted as she was, no Frankish belle, whose bloom is beginning to wane, could have been more sensitive about her age. I was delighted to find this touch of vanity in her; it was the only trace of femininenature she ever betrayed. Beshir’s declaration that she was a hundred and fifty years old, roused her to fury. She rose up, turned to me with a face so hideously distorted that I could not laugh at it, and yelled out: “Look at me, O my lord! and tell me if this son of a dog speaks the truth!” “He lies, Bakhita,” I answered; “I should say that you were not more than thirty years old.” The fury of her face was instantly replaced by a simper of vanity which made it even more hideous; but from that time Bakhita considered me as her friend. Beshir, who never missed an opportunity of hailing the people on shore, called out one day to a damsel who came down to the river for water: “Here is your sister on board.” The amiable maiden, not at all pleased with the comparison, rejoined; “Am I sister to a hyena?”—a compliment, over which the old woman chuckled for a long time.
The wind fell at sunset, when we were about seven miles from Meroë, and while the sailors moored the boat to the shore and built a fire to cook the head and ribs of my sheep, I climbed the bank, to get a sight of the country. As far as I could see, the soil was cultivated, principally with cotton and dourra. The cotton was both in flower and pod, and was of excellent quality. Achmet and I visited a water-mill, under the charge of a Dinka slave, who came up humbly and kissed our hands. We commanded him to go on with his work, when he took his seat on the beam of the wheel and drove his cows around, to the accompaniment of a loud, shrill song, which, at a distance harmonized strangely with the cry of the jackal, in the deserts away beyond the river.