IBN BAṬÚṬAH’S JOURNEY.

POSITION OF MALI.

Ibn Baṭúṭah returned to his native city in 1350, after an absence of five and twenty years, during which time he had visited nearly all the countries of the east, from Constantinople to China, from Bulghar and Kipchak Tatary to Zingebar and the Indian islands. He employed the next year in visiting Spain and Barbary; and then, to complete his acquaintance with the habitable earth, he undertook the perilous journey over the desert to the country of the Blacks.[124] In Sijilmésah he was hospitably entertained by the brother of a merchant whom he had met at Kan-chan-fu in China, and, purchasing camels and provisions for four months, he joined a Káfilah which set forward on its march to Negroland on the 1st of February 1352, under the guidance of Abú Moḥammed Bandakán, of the tribe of Masúfah.

In twenty-five days the Káfilah arrived at Tegháza, a town in the desert, where the houses were built of rock salt, and roofed with camel skins. The inhabitants of the place were slaves of the Masúfah, employed in excavating and cutting the salt required for the trade with Negroland. After a delay of ten days on the hill near Tegháza, and renewing its stock of water at the salt and muddy wells in the hollow (the supply for the next ten days in the desert being precarious), the Káfilah resumed its march.[125] It fortunately escaped the much dreaded difficulties: fresh rain-water lay in all the hollows and crevices of the rocks; and at one place was found so copious a spring of delicious water, that the travellers, after satisfying their thirst, washed themselves and their clothes in the limpid stream. The fine truffles growing in this tract, compensated in some degree for the troublesome insects infesting it. One of the merchants belonging to the Káfilah strayed too far from it, and was lost. This misfortune served as a warning to Ibn Baṭúṭah, who had previously made it a practice to march in advance and wander over the plains. The dead body of the strayed merchant was afterwards found by another Káfilah about a mile from water.

Táserahlá, the station at which the Káfilah next arrived, was a stagnant pool, where it was customary to halt three days, for the purpose of repairing and replenishing the waterskins. It was also usual to send forward from this place the couriers (el takshíf), a name commonly given to all of the tribe of Masúfah.[126] For merchants arriving at Táserahlá always despatched letters to Aïwalátin, apprising their friends of their approach, and engaging them to meet the Káfilah with water four days from the latter place. If the courier died on the way, as often happened, then no assistance came from Aïwalátin, and the Káfilah perished in consequence. “For,” says the Arab author, “that desert is filled with demons; and if the courier goes alone, they forthwith appear, bewilder and startle him, till he strays from the way, when his destruction is inevitable; for there is no path or track to guide him, nor anything but an immense wilderness of sand driven about by the winds, so that where there is now a level plain, there arises in a few minutes a hillock, which again quickly disappears. The guides in this desert, therefore, have nothing to rely on but constant practice, and require no ordinary share of intrepidity and self-possession. The appearance of our guide, who was one of those best acquainted with the country, caused me much surprise, inasmuch as he had but one eye, and that one diseased.”[127]

The merchants of the Káfilah engaged a Masúfí courier for 100 mithḳáls of gold, and on the sixth day after leaving Táserahlá, they descried with delight the signal fires of those who had advanced to meet them from Aïwalátin. The tract passed over abounded in herds of the baḳr el wuḥash (the Antelope Bubalis), which were chased by the Masúfah, and killed with arrows. Their flesh, causing thirst, was little eaten: but their stomachs contained water; and Ibn Baṭúṭah saw with astonishment their contents drained by the people of the desert. Serpents were also numerous in the same region. A merchant of Telemsán, who accompanied the Káfilah, amused himself with catching these reptiles; but he was on one occasion bitten in the hand, and the inflammation that ensued continuing to increase, he killed a camel, thrust his wounded hand into the stomach of the slaughtered animal, and kept it there for some hours, till the pain was assuaged. The desert travelled over in the last four days to Aïwalátin differed much from the preceding tract. It was dry and hot in the highest degree. The Káfilah occasionally met with parties of the Masúfah and Berdámah, who carried water about for sale. In the foregoing account of the desert between Táserahlá and Aïwalátin, it is easy to recognize “The Desert,” properly so called, of El Bekrí, the Desert of Tíser of El Idrísí, and the Azawad of Leo. The breadth of the dreaded tract, peopled by the fears of travellers with demons; its distance from Sijilmésah, and from the southern limit of the Ṣaḥrá; its possessors the Masúfah; and the numerous serpents infesting it, are all so many marks whereby it may be discovered under its various denominations.[128]

Two lunar months were spent in the journey from Sijilmésah to Aïwalátin.[129] This was the frontier territory of Málí, and had for ruler a black officer named Ḥuseïn Farbá, the word farbá signifying governor in the language of Málí. Ibn Baṭúṭah was but little pleased with the manners of the Blacks, among whom he had expected to see more homage paid to men of his complexion. He even thought of returning immediately to Sijilmésah, but his original plans preponderated, and he resolved, at any rate, to explore Negroland. His attention was engaged by the singular character and customs of the Masúfah, who formed the higher class of the inhabitants of Aïwalátin. Though Mohammedans, they had a law of succession resembling that of the pagans of Malabar. Their women, handsome and finely-formed, went unveiled, and conversed with the men on terms of freedom and equality which fully spoke the dissolute manners of the place.[130]

After staying fifty days in Aïwalátin, Ibn Baṭúṭah engaged a Masúfí guide, and, in company with three merchants, set forward for Málí, which was a good twenty-four days’ journey distant. In ten days he came to Zágharí, a large town inhabited by black traders, and some whites of the Ibádhíyah sect, called Ṣaghanghú. Leaving Zágharí, he arrived at Kársekhó, “a city on the bank of the Great River which is the Nile.” After describing the downward course of the river in terms which shall be examined further on, the traveller’s narrative thus proceeds:—“We marched from Kársekhó and came to the river Ṣanṣarah, which is ten miles from Málí, and it being the custom of the country that no one enters there without asking leave, I wrote to the company of Whites, and to its chief, Moḥammed ben Alfaḳíh Algezúlí, and also to Shemso-d-dín, to engage me a lodging; and so, when I came to the river (Ṣanṣarah), I embarked in a canoe, and without further trouble, arrived at the city of Málí, the residence of the Sultan of Negroland; and, landing near the burial ground, I walked directly to the quarter of the Whites, and found Moḥammed ben Alfaḳíh, who had procured me a lodging opposite to his own house.”[131]

Ibn Baṭúṭah fell sick soon after his arrival in the capital of Málí, and two months elapsed before he was able to visit Mansá Suleïmán. Returning on that occasion from the palace, he was followed by those who brought the King’s present. They called to him to rise and receive it, while they bore it towards him with an air of much importance. But what was the surprise of the Arab traveller, who expected to receive a handsome garment, or a sum of money, to find the royal gift to consist of only three scraps of bread, some hashed mutton, and a calabash of milk. He subsequently took occasion to reprove Mansá Suleïmán for his want of munificence, and thereupon received from him, as a conciliatory gift, a robe, lodging, an allowance while he remained, with a sum of money at his departure.

But the arrangements of Mansá Suleïmán’s court did not betray the sordid disposition imputed to him. They appear to have been conceived in a style of rude pomp and majesty no longer witnessed in the same country. Within the royal palace was an alcove or vaulted chamber communicating with the interior, and having towards the hall of audience three windows covered with silver gratings, and as many more with gratings of gold or silver gilt. Over these gratings hung silk curtains, the drawing of which served to show that the king was seated within. The officers and people then assembled. The Farárí or chief captains, with their archers, spearmen, and musicians, ranged themselves on both sides of the alcove, and on the signal being given, by thrusting a handkerchief of Egyptian muslin through the grating of one of the windows, the musicians fell to work with drums, ivory flutes, pipes of cane and calabashes, and made an extraordinary din. Outside the alcove stood Dúghá, the interpreter, and near him a man who carried his words to the king, and brought back the royal answer.[132]

At times the king gave audience in the open air, seated on a platform covered with silk, and called Bámbi. A large silk umbrella, like a canopy, was held over his head, having on the top a golden bird as large as a falcon. He walked slowly on these occasions, surrounded by 300 armed slaves. Two horses and two rams were led forth, among other emblems of royal state. The King’s words gave rise to laudatory harangues in the assembly, in the course of which the soldiers signified their approbation by twanging their bows. Whoever spoke to the King, or was addressed by him, stripped himself to the waist, and, throwing himself prostrate, sprinkled dust or clay over his head, and beat the ground with his elbows. The frequent exhibition of this abject humility offended Ibn Baṭúṭah, who also reprobates the custom of allowing the female slaves and young girls, not excepting the King’s daughters, to go completely naked, and to appear in that state before the King himself. He censures also the grotesque exhibitions of the poets or mimes, who were called jolá (the plural of jál).[133] He witnessed the performance of one who wore a masquerade dress of feathers, with a wooden head, like that of some bird, and, thus disguised, delivered an extemporaneous harangue before the King. He says nothing of the industry or trade of Málí; yet the length at which he describes the dresses of the courtiers, and his frequent mention of silks and of gold and silver ornaments, show that the Negro city did not impress his mind with the idea of poverty. The King wore a gown of European manufacture.

Among the Mandingoes or other nations in Western Africa, no trace at present exists of the manners of Málí, or of the pompous forms of a great monarchy. But in Yariba and Bergú, on the banks of the Quorra, we find absolute sovereigns, who are approached with the same humiliating ceremonies above described. While the King sits richly clothed, and the musicians strain their efforts, the courtiers strip themselves to the waist, and bow their heads to the dust. In Bergú the King is followed by a troop of naked girls.[134] The idea of royalty as regards both its internal principle and external form, is now in Yariba precisely what it was five centuries ago in Málí; and this remarkable fact may perhaps justify the suspicion that the people of Málí originally issued from the country adjoining Bergú, Yariba, and Dahómy, and wherein there now exists a Mohammedan, and probably a Mandingo state called Magho.[135]

Ibn Baṭúṭah relates his departure from Málí in these words: “I arrived in Málí on the 14th of the month Jumáda-l-awwal, of the year 753 (29th June, 1352), and I left it on the 22nd of Moharrem in the following year (27th February, 1353). I departed in company with a merchant named Abú Bekr Ibn Yakúb, and we took the road to Mímah. I rode on a camel, because horses are so dear in that country that one often costs 100 mithḳáls.” From these expressions, combined with those in which he describes his arrival in Málí, it appears evident that he never crossed the Great River, and therefore that the city of Málí must have stood on the northern side of that stream. He came to Kársekhó, situate on the northern bank of the Great River, “which is the Nile.” He did not cross this stream, but proceeding to the river Ṣanṣarah, and embarking on it, he reached Málí. When quitting this place, he mounted his camel at once, and took the road to Mímah. It is therefore certain that Málí was on the same bank of the Great River as Kársekhó and Mímah.

To this conclusion it may be objected, that Leo Africanus places Melli (Málí) on a southern branch of the Great River, or Niger, as he styles it. But that writer’s statements, if viewed comprehensively, and thoroughly understood, will be found to afford, in this instance, no firm ground whereon to build an argument. He says that the country called by the Moors Gheneoa (Genéwah), and by the natives Genni (Jenni), extends 250 miles along the Niger, to the place where that river enters the ocean. And again, he says that Melli lies to the south of Gheneoa, and extends 300 miles along a branch of the Niger. Now it is obvious that the river on which Melli stood, is converted into a branch of the Niger by the same hypothesis which led the river of Genni directly westward to the ocean; and we are not bound, while rejecting the erroneous theory, to respect the modifications forced by it on collateral information; nor to admit Leo’s descriptions, clothed in the language of system, in opposition to Ibn Baṭúṭah’s clear statement of facts.[136]

But if we cannot admit that the capital of Málí was situate on any stream entering the Joliba from the south, so neither can it be supposed to have stood on any tributary stream joining that river on its left or northern bank. For why should a traveller make such a circuit as to continue his route southwards to Kársekhó, and then ascend a stream in order to reach a point to which he might have gone directly by land? And besides, the left bank of the Joliba, within the limits wherein we may reasonably look for the site of Málí, has been travelled over by Mungo Park, who found there no tributary stream. The mention of the river Ṣanṣarah, therefore, presents difficulties which admit of only one explanation. A great river like the Joliba, periodically overflowing the adjacent country, will probably form many channels, and insulate, perhaps by permanent canals, long tracts of low land, as is exemplified on a small scale in the course of the Medway below Chatham. Now, if we suppose that Málí stood in a low tract, intersected by a canal of the Joliba, called Ṣanṣarah, then Ibn Baṭúṭah’s movements may be easily explained. That the banks of the Joliba are almost impassable in the rainy season we know from the narrative of Park, who, being a stranger in the country, struggled through difficulties which a native perhaps would never have thought of encountering. But Ibn Baṭúṭah had an experienced guide; going to Málí, therefore, at the commencement of the rains (the end of June), he directed his course to an easily accessible point of the Joliba, and thence proceeded to the capital by the canal: leaving Málí in the middle of the dry season (the last day of February) he mounted his camel and crossed the country. Moreover, we are fortunately able to show that our hypothesis respecting the Ṣanṣarah, is not only not unnatural nor improbable, but that it truly represents the physical character of that part of the Joliba now under consideration, and that there is, in fact, a canal or arm of the river in the very place where we should expect to find the Ṣanṣarah. Mungo Park, describing his voyage down the Joliba from Samee to Sego, says, “We passed down a small stream to the north of Sego-korro, and halted opposite to Sego-sikorro, near the sandhills, where I formerly waited for a passage.” In explanation of these words, it must be observed that Sego-korro is on the northern bank of the river; Sego-sikorro, where the King of Bambara resided, on the southern bank. The small stream north of Sego-korro, therefore, down which the traveller passed, (in the middle of August, when the floods were at their height,) must have been a canal or arm of the river insulating the ground on which Sego-korro stood.[137] Park does not state the length of the small stream, nor say whether he entered it near Samee; but these particulars are here of little consequence, since our object is not to identify the small stream of Park with the Ṣanṣarah of Ibn Baṭúṭah, but only to show how perfectly our hypothesis respecting the latter harmonizes with nature and with fact. Yet it must not be concealed that there is reason for believing that the site of the capital of Málí was near Samee. Ibn Khaldún writes the proper name of that capital in characters wanting, unfortunately, the diacritic points; but these being supplied by probable conjecture, the passage in question will run thus: “And the residence of the king of the people of Málí is the city of Benní,” (or Benna).[138] A place called Binni, of little importance, stands on the north bank of the Joliba, about seven miles above Samee.

The sequel of Ibn Baṭúṭah’s journey shall be related in his own words, though with some curtailment. He thus proceeds:—“We came to a wide creek or arm of the Nile, which can be crossed only in boats, on the third night after we left Málí. On arriving at its banks, I beheld, with astonishment, about sixteen immense animals, which I took to be elephants. However, when I saw them plunge into the water, I called out to Abú Bekr Ibn Yakúb, and asked him what are these? And he replied, ‘They are river horses (Hippopotami), which come ashore to feed.’ They are much larger than common horses, yet resemble them in their heads and the fulness of their manes, but their feet are like those of elephants. On another occasion, when navigating the river from Tomboktú to Kaúkaú, I had a view of these animals. They were swimming about with their heads above the water, and snorting. The natives attack them with javelins, to which are attached a number of cords. If the animal be struck in the neck or the leg, he is soon overcome, dragged to the bank, and killed. The natives eat the flesh, and the banks of the river are strewed over with the bones of these animals.[139]

“At this arm of the Nile we rested in a village governed by a negro named Farbá Maghá, one of those who had accompanied Mansá Músa on his pilgrimage. He related to us, that when Mansá Músa came to this place, he gave to Abú-l-Abbas Aldukálí, a white man and Kadhi who attended him, 4,000 mithḳáls for the expenses of his journey. Abú-l-Abbas, however, on arriving at Mímah, complained that his money was stolen. The King thereupon sent for the governor, and threatened him with death, if the money and the thief were not immediately discovered. The search seemed at first fruitless; but on the slaves of Abú-l-Abbas being menaced and strictly questioned, one of them, a young girl, pointed out the spot where her master had buried the money. Mansá Músa, on hearing this, banished the Kadhi to the country of the Unbelievers, who eat men. There he stayed four years, before he was permitted to return; and the Blacks did not eat him, because they say that white man’s flesh is bad meat, being flabby and immature. And here I must relate a curious anecdote. Some of these cannibals, led by a chief, came on a certain occasion to the court of Mansá Suleïmán; they were clothed in silk wrappers, and had enormous pendants in their ears, the holes in which were an inch in diameter. The King received them with much distinction, regaled them sumptuously, and, as a token of regard, gave them a slave girl. They immediately killed the girl, and ate her; then, besmearing their hands and faces with her blood, they visited the Sultan, and thanked him for his present. In the country of these cannibals there are mines of gold.[140]

“Leaving the village on the water side, we came to Korí Mansá, where the camel that I was riding died. When my servant told me of this accident, I went out to witness it with my own eyes, and there I beheld the Blacks already devouring the carcass, their custom being to eat every kind of dead animal. I then sent two of my followers to a town called Zagharí, about two days’ journey from Korí Mansá, to buy me another camel. In six days they returned, and we then took the road to Mímah. We did not enter that town, however, but encamped outside near the wells. Thence we arrived at Tomboktú, a city four miles distant from the Nile. Most of its inhabitants are people of Mímah, or of the tribes called Almolaththemún. One day I went to visit the governor, Farbá Músa, and met at his house a Masúfí, who had just arrived in Tomboktú, to take the command of the people of his tribe established there. The governor gave him a robe, a turban, and pair of trowsers, all of figured cotton; and made him sit on a shield, while the chief people of his tribe lifted him above their heads.[141]

“At Tomboktú I embarked in a small canoe made of a single trunk of a tree, and went down the river. We landed every night, and went to some inhabited place to procure what we wanted,—such as oil, and other necessaries—giving in exchange for them salt, drugs, and trinkets. We came to a place, the name of which I have forgotten, but where Farbá Suleïmán, a Hájí of sterling worth, was governor. He was a man of great size and strength, and had a bow which none of the Blacks but himself could bend. I went into his house to ask for a little durrah, and my request being interpreted for him by a faḳíh who was present, he took me by the hand, and led me into his principal chamber, which was filled with arms of various kinds, shields, bows, and javelins. There was then brought to me a drink called Aldaḳnó, prepared from bruised durrah, with milk and honey. We then ate of a water melon; and in conclusion, a young slave coming into the room, Farbá Suleïmán presented him to me, and I have him at the present day.[142]

“From this place we went on to Kaúkaú, one of the largest, handsomest, and strongest cities in all Negroland. It stands on the banks of the Nile, and abounds in rice, milk, poultry, fish, and fruit of matchless excellence. The people there, as well as in Málí, use shells for money. I stayed in Kaúkaú about two months, and then went by land in the direction of Tekaddá, with a large Káfilah of people of Ghodémis.[143] We came into the country of the Berdámah, a Berber tribe, whose protection and friendship are indispensable for the safety of travellers in this region. The Berdámah are wanderers, and never remain long in one place. Their tents are of a peculiar construction; they fix poles in the ground, and place on them a matting of reeds; over this they form a trellis-work of boughs of trees, and cover the frame thus constructed with skins and cotton cloths. Their women are the prettiest and best shaped that I have ever seen; they are as white as snow, and the fattest in the world. Whoever wishes to have a woman of this tribe, needs only to go to the wells near their encampments in the evening, and she will be sure to follow him; but he must not take her further than Kaúkaú or Aïwalátin.[144]

“We continued our march to Tekaddá, where the houses are built of red stone; the water is coloured by running over copper ores, which impart to it a disagreeable flavour. The people of Tekaddá sow no grain; they are wholly devoted to trade, and live in affluence; their luxury consisting, as in Málí and Aïwalátin, in slaves of both sexes, of whom some classes fetch exorbitant prices. The king of Tekaddá is a Berber. The copper taken from the mines near the town is made into small bars about an inch and a half thick, which are exchanged for grain, meat, fuel, and other necessaries. These bars are carried to Kúber, in the country of the Infidels, to Rághá, and to Bornú, which is forty days’ journey from Tekaddá. The king of that country (who is named Idris) never speaks to his subjects, unless from behind a screen or curtain.[145]

“From Tekaddá we set forward on our march to Twát, which is seventy days distant, and came to Káhir, which belongs to the Sultan of Karkar, and yields sufficient pasturage. Then going three days over a waterless desert, and fifteen through a tract uninhabited but not waterless, we came to the place where the road to Egypt separates from that to Twat. The water of the wells in that place being impregnated with iron, stains linen. In ten days more we came to Dekhár, and in another month reached Búdá, one of the largest towns of Twát.”

To the foregoing narrative a few remarks may be here advantageously subjoined. If it be granted that Ibn Baṭúṭah, in sending to Zagharí for a camel to replace that which died at Korí Mansá, had recourse to the nearest town, then it follows that Mímah, one stage at least from Tomboktú, must have been more than two stages from Korí Mansá. But this place, in a mean position, will be nearly as far as Zagharí, or fourteen days, from the capital of Málí. This capital must therefore have been, at the lowest calculation, eighteen days from Tomboktú.[146]

It is worthy of attention, that, in the fourteenth century, Tomboktú was peopled chiefly by natives of Mímah, and by the Molaththemún, the very parties with whom Ghánah, three centuries before, had to maintain a constant warfare. The Masúfah, the early occupants of the desert between Sijilmésah and Ghánah, extended from Tegháza to Tomboktú, and mercenary bands of them were at the court of Málí. But the caravan road seems to have been their only territory; eastward they were bounded by the Berdámah, who carried water for sale into the desert of Azawad, and whose encampments were probably not ten days distant from Tomboktú.

There does not appear to have been any place of note between Tomboktú and Kaúkaú; nor does Ibn Baṭúṭah say a word favourable to the supposition that the former of these cities was in his time intrinsically important. Kaúkaú, on the other hand, then enjoyed that eminence among the cities of Negroland which it continued to retain for at least four centuries.[147] The morals of the Berdámah, of Aïwalátin, and Tekaddá, as described by Ibn Baṭúṭah, bear a close resemblance to those characterizing Aúdaghost and Tádmekkah in earlier times, and indicate the same fundamental conditions of society. The women of the Berdámah, he says, were willing to follow strangers, on the implied condition that they were not to be taken beyond Kaúkaú or Aïwalátin. This is as much as to say, that they willingly accompanied merchants arriving with the Káfilahs from the north-east, to a certain distance on either of the two frequented roads; but it is remarkable that no mention is here made of a road to any part of Houssa.

Tekaddá was seventy days from Twát, and as fifty-eight of these are accounted for, we may conclude that Tekaddá was twelve days from Káhir, and thirty from the place where the roads to Twát and Egypt divided (probably near Ghát); it was also forty days from Bornú, so that its position may be ascertained with sufficient accuracy. Leo Africanus states, that beyond or eastward of the Desert of the Zenágah lay that of the Zuenziga, “which extends from the neighbourhood of Tegaza eastwards, to the borders of the Desert of Air, inhabited by the Targa (Tawárik); and from the confines of Segelmessa, Tebelbelt, and Benigomi southwards (south-eastwards), to the Desert of Ghir, which is opposite to the kingdom of Guber.” It has been already shown that by Air Leo meant the Desert of ʿAhír east of Aghades; and it seems equally certain that his Ghir is the Káhir of Ibn Baṭúṭah.[148] The copper of Tekaddá was taken to Bornú, Kúber (Guber), and Rághá (Raka in Yariba?); and here it is worthy of remark, that Guber, the frontier province of Houssa towards the desert, and the province to which native historians concede the superiority derivable from an early intercourse with white men, was still pagan in the fourteenth century. This fact alone would be sufficient to prove that Houssa formed no part of the Negroland which fell within the range of the Morabites, even if the general tenor of their history did not contradict such an extension of their conquests; or if the question were not decided by the authority of Ibn Khaldún, who says expressly that “Tekaddá was behind the country of the Morabites.”[149]

Ibn Baṭúṭah makes no allusion to the extent of the empire of Málí towards the west or south; but he clearly indicates its limits towards the north and east. When first mentioning the river, he describes its course in the following terms:—“We came to the Great River, which is the Nile, and on the banks of which stands the city of Kársekhó. Thence the Nile descends to Kábrah and to Zághah, and the Sultans of these two cities are tributary to the Sultan of Málí. The inhabitants of Zághah were the first [in these countries] who embraced Mohammedism. They are religious, and fond of learning. From Zághah the river descends to Tomboktú; thence to Kaúkaú; thence to the district of Múlí, in the country of the Límiyín, which terminates [in that direction] the dominion of Málí. It goes thence to Yúfí (Núfí), one of the greatest states in Negroland, and the Sultan of which is among the most powerful princes of that quarter of the earth. No white man can reach that country, for sure death awaits him from the natives before he penetrates so far. From Yúfí the Nile descends to Nubia, the inhabitants of which are Christians, and to Dongolah,” &c.[150]

Notwithstanding the confusion into which the writer of Ibn Baṭúṭah’s narrative here falls, placing Zághah below Kábrah, evidently in ignorance of the proximity of the latter place to Tomboktú, yet as we know that Zághah was not on the part of the river which Ibn Baṭúṭah actually navigated, viz. between Tomboktú and Kaúkaú, we may rest satisfied that it was above Kábrah. The empire of Málí extended along both banks of the Great River as far as Tomboktú. On the left it stretched northward to the border of the desert and the route of the caravans, thus comprising the territory of the ancient Ghánah. Eastward of Tomboktú it appears to have been bounded by the river; the Berdámah and other tribes of the desert on the left bank retaining their independence. Kaúkaú had been annexed to the empire, but no advance made eastwards from that place, nor had Tekaddá been as yet invaded. Below Kaúkaú the river flowed by the district of Múlí in the country of the Límiyín (who were on its left bank, as shall be shown hereafter), and at that point terminated, towards the east, the empire of Málí.

The Múlí of Ibn Baṭúṭah is apparently the district called by Mohammed Masíní Mouri (Múrí), four long days’ journey west of Sokkatú. It is said to be mountainous and well watered; it immediately adjoins the Desert of the Tawárik, and its inhabitants are still pagans. It is therefore the northern limit of the negro population on the left bank of the Kowára, or on the side of Houssa.[151]

By the possession of Múlí the people of Málí had ready ingress into the countries whence slaves were taken, but there is no authority whatever for the supposition that they ever extended their dominion farther eastward; and care must be taken, therefore, not to confound the Mandingo empire of Málí with the country called Marra or Malla, situate on the confines of the former in the north-western part of Houssa. It seems clearly ascertained that the north-west part of Houssa, or the territory between Zanfara and the Kowára, is called by the natives Marra, or by those who affect the Arab sounds, Malla. The ancient greatness assigned to Marra in the historical traditions of the natives, favours the opinion that it was the Melil or Malilo of the early Arab writers. At present the name Marra is used only by the indigenous population, and it is curious to observe that its former importance never brought it to the ears of Clapperton or Lander. But its partial obscurity only renders it more likely to lead to confusion; and therefore, in order to distinguish clearly between Málí and Malla, let it be observed, that the former of these lay on the west of the Kowára, the latter on the east. Málí was the empire of the Mandingoes; Malla a kingdom of Houssa. These two states approached, and may have met each other near Múlí; but there is no positive ground for believing that they were in any degree connected, or that the conquests of Málí ever extended into Malla.[152]

Opposite to Múlí, or on the right bank of the Kowára, the dominion of Málí probably extended a little southward to the borders of Bergú. Ibn Baṭúṭah relates that Bálbá Ḳásá, the queen of Mansá Suleïmán, sent, in a fit of displeasure, a confidential messenger to Mári Jáṭah, the King’s nephew, instigating him to revolt, and promising to gain over the army to his interest. Mári Jáṭah was at that time governor of Kombori.[153] Now this name occurs in the fragments of native geographers collected by Capt. Clapperton. It is therein stated that Kanbari (Kombori) lies north of the River Kadúna; and again, we are told, that the river of that country is called Kantagoora (Kotú-n-kúra). Yet the Kombori, of which Jáṭah was governor, could not have been the country on the river of Kotú-n-kúra, for this is beyond Múlí, where the dominion of Málí terminated. This objection may be removed, however, by a little attention to the comprehensiveness of the name under consideration. Clapperton informs us that the aboriginal inhabitants of the country of Boussa (Busá) are the negroes called Cambrie or Cumbrie (Kombori), who still preserve their own language, and dwell in the woods on both sides of the river, their villages extending also a long way up the Kotú-n-kúra. From them, therefore, it is evident that the country on this river takes the name of Kombori. But they also occupy all the islands in the river above Busá, and are the indigenous inhabitants of the territory of Busá, which extends eleven days’ journey northwards up the right bank of the Kowára. They occupy, therefore, the country opposite to Múlí, where we may accordingly place with much probability the province of Kombori belonging to Málí.[154]

“From Múlí (says Ibn Baṭúṭah) the river descends to Yúfí (Núfí), one of the greatest kingdoms of Negroland, but to which white men cannot penetrate; and thence it flows to Nubia.” It would appear, from this, that the superiority now enjoyed by the people of Núfí in arts and industry, was already acknowledged in the fourteenth century. It is manifest also that the system of the native geographers which converts the Chadda into a continuation of the Kowára, by which the waters of this great river are carried across Bornú to the Nile of Egypt, is of some antiquity. Ibn Baṭúṭah believed that the great river below Múlí flowed some distance to the south or south-east before it turned eastwards to Nubia. In speaking of Kulwá (Kilwá, or Quiloa), on the eastern coast of Africa, he uses these words:—“A merchant there told me, that the town of Sofálah is half a month’s journey from Kulwá, and one month from Yúfí in the country of the Límiyín, and that gold is brought from Yúfí to Sofálah.”[155] The boldness here evinced in bringing together and joining in commerce countries far asunder, is constantly exhibited in the geographical speculations of an early or ill-informed age. Distances are then enlarged as expediency requires; hypothesis leaps over the vacant spaces, and forcibly stretches the known portions in the opposite sides of a continent till they meet in the centre. Illustrations of this truth may be found in all ages. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Abyssinia, Congo, and Monomotapa were all supposed to meet together. One of the Jesuits resident in Abyssinia asserts, that salt was carried from that country to Tomboktú.[156] The reasoning which led to this statement was, in its nature, exactly the same as that from which the Arabs inferred an intercourse between Sofálah and Yúfí. It is not surprising, therefore, that Ibn Baṭúṭah, who had far less accurate means of ascertaining the true positions of the places visited by him than the Catholic missionaries, should believe that the remote interior, whence gold was brought to Sofálah, was occupied by the same nation who filled the interior viewed in the opposite direction from Málí. Erroneous as this kind of inference may be, it yet rests on ideas of direction so manifest and unambiguous as to be of material service in explaining an author’s meaning. It is plain, then, that Ibn Baṭúṭah thought Yúfí to lie between Málí and Sofálah, and that the Great River from Múlí to Yúfí flowed towards Sofálah, but beyond Yúfí turned eastwards to Nubia.

It is impossible to quit the narrative of Ibn Baṭúṭah’s travels without making an important reflection on the extent and direction of his journey to Negroland. We see in him an enterprising, experienced, well-informed traveller, whose ambition it was, apparently, to explore all the known parts of the earth; he goes from Sijilmésah across the desert to Málí, thence to Tomboktú, and then descends the river as far as Kaúkaú, and from Kaúkaú he turns off north-eastwards to the Desert on his way back. Now can it be reasonably doubted that, in this tour, he visited the Negroland with which Sijilmésah had maintained an intercourse from the earliest times, and which had been so minutely described by El Bekrí and others? Can it be doubted that he accomplished his proposed task in the sense in which it was understood by his countrymen, and that the Negroland of western writers consequently lay between the capital of Málí and Kaúkaú or Kághó? When he alludes to Gúber as a pagan country, but says nothing of Kanó, can it be seriously maintained that he slightingly passes over in silence the only part of Negroland described with copious and connected details by the best Arab writers?

The hypothesis identifying Kanó with Ghánah appears to have originated with Leo Africanus, and rests on no better foundation than the supposed resemblance of those names, which to an impartial critic must appear widely dissimilar.[157] Neither can it be admitted that Aghades was ever called Aúdaghost, or that it is only twenty-five days from Jermah in Fezzán. Kanó is two months from Jermah, four or five months from the Western Ocean, and an equal distance from Sijilmésah, with which country it certainly never maintained any intercourse. It is not close to the desert, nor is there any desert of extreme aridity within much less than a month’s journey from it.[158] It has no navigable river near it, nor even any stream which is not quite dry in summer; much less can the series of names placed on the river of Ghánah be found in its vicinity. Neither do the descriptions of Ghánah, with all their details, contain the names of any of the countries near Kanó. The tribes of the desert on the frontiers of Houssa have all come from the neighbourhood of Fezzán, and not from Sijilmésah.[159] Kanó is removed far from the deserts of the Zenágah and of the Morabites, who always hung over Ghánah, and at length became its masters: nor was Kanó included in the empire of Málí when this power had attained its greatest extension, and had advanced far beyond Ghánah. To one who examines with patience and attention the accounts of Ghánah, it cannot but appear surprising that its identity with Kanó should be maintained and acquiesced in even at the present day.