by Steve Kemper
The next day he sent his most trusted man, el Gatroni, to Zinder, 160 miles away, to fetch the 400 dollars and the British ironware stored there when he left for Timbuktu. Barth hoped the cache had survived the revolution in Bornu. He also expected el Gatroni to find the expedition’s new supplies waiting there. Next, Barth arranged temporary credit with a Kano merchant by giving him nearly everything of value he had left, including a six-shooter. Then he went to work, completing a survey of Kano begun during his first visit.
“Severe fits of fever attacked me repeatedly,” he noted. To counter them he used “uninterrupted exercise.” The city’s climate was malign for Europeans. Horses didn’t do well either—two of his three swelled up and died, including his great companion Blast of the Desert, who had carried him “during three years of almost incessant fatigue on my expedition to Kanem, to the Musgu country, to Bagirmi, to Timbuktu, and back to Kano.”
As he waited for el Gatroni’s return, he mulled over two other rumors from the Sudan grapevine. On October 29 he heard that a British expedition had steamed up the Benue River. He had urged this mission on the government two years earlier but hadn’t heard a word about it since. He traced the rumor to a man in Kano who had seen the steamer on the Benue. Barth questioned him closely and was convinced that the rumor was true.
Barth wouldn’t know the details for many months. The mission had left Britain in early June 1854. When its commander died soon after the boat reached the island of Fernando Po in the Gulf of Guinea, Dr. William Balfour Baikie assumed command. Baikie, who later became Barth’s friend and supporter, took the 100-foot steamer Pleiad up the Niger for 700 miles. In early August the Pleiad entered the Benue and ascended it for 250 miles. At the end of September Baikie turned around, reaching the Niger on October 20, while Barth was in Kano. By February 1855 the Pleiad was home.
Every previous excursion on the Niger had proven deadly to Europeans, mostly because of fever. But the Pleiad’s entire crew—twelve Europeans and fifty-four Africans—survived because of an experimental therapy—prophylactic doses of quinine. This success altered the course of African exploration. The voyage also proved Barth’s conviction that the heart of Africa could be opened to commerce through navigation of the Niger’s watershed.
The second thing on Barth’s mind was the situation in Kukawa. Conflicting rumors swirled through Kano, but in early November news arrived that Umar had been restored to power and his brother ‘Abd erRahman was in prison. (At first Umar spared his brother’s life, because of his mother’s insistence, but two months later the sheikh had him strangled.) Umar’s reinstatement relieved Barth. He knew Umar would welcome him in Kukawa, which meant that he could take the shorter and safer route home through Tebu country rather than risking Aïr.
First, he had to muster the means to leave Kano, so he eagerly awaited el Gatroni. The faithful servant returned after an absence of three weeks. He brought nothing but a few letters from the Foreign Office, written in Arabic on Barth’s behalf to Sultan Aliyu of Sokoto and to the chiefs of the Fulanis. Barth noted wryly that they were very nice letters and would have done him a lot of good two years ago.
But el Gatroni found nothing else for him in Zinder. The cache had disappeared during Bornu’s civil unrest. The supplies forwarded to Zinder by the British government also were gone—Vogel’s servant had come from Kukawa, said el Gatroni to the dumbfounded Barth, and taken all of them away.
“It was now that I heard that the news of my death had been every where believed,” wrote Barth.
THE FOREIGN OFFICE had not heard from the explorer for months. The last dispatch received by Consul Herman had been written in March 1854 while Barth was at the tents outside Timbuktu. During Barth’s silence, Herman did receive many disturbing reports about violence and new wars in the lands the explorer would have to cross if he ever left Timbuktu. Then in late October Herman opened a disturbing dispatch from Vogel, written in July. Herman immediately wrote in his lugubrious way to Lord Clarendon at the Foreign Office:
My Lord,
It is with the deepest regret that I have the honor of reporting to Y. L. [Your Lordship] that Dr. Vogel, in a private letter to me, dated Kouka the 10th July last, announces the death of Dr. Barth at [Maradi] about 100 miles E. N. E. of Sokoto.
Herman noted that Vogel’s source was credible, that the region near Maradi was convulsed by violence, and that no word had arrived from Barth in months. “All tend to induce the sad conclusion,” wrote Herman, ever a devotee of the worst, “that the report of his death will prove but too true a tale.”
Clarendon got this letter in early December and informed Chevalier Bunsen, who forwarded the news to Barth’s parents and siblings in Hamburg. “And thus,” wrote Barth later, “my family was thrown into the deepest grief, in consequence of the rumor of my death.” They held a funeral, and “all my effects were buried.”
A month passed. At the end of November, Herman sent another letter to Clarendon. This time he wondered whether Barth had been buried prematurely. Herman suggested some countertheories that underscored the uncertainties of communication in Central Africa, and the opacity that resulted. He noted that the reports about Barth’s death from Vogel and Sheikh Umar had come from only one person, who might not be so credible after all. (The source was a malicious servant of Vogel’s who lied about Barth’s death in hopes of stealing his provisions. Vogel was too green to recognize the man’s machinations until after the damage was done.)
Second, continued Herman, the predatory bands of Tuaregs infesting the Maradi region might have intercepted Barth’s dispatches, which would explain his long silence. Third, a large caravan from the area where Barth supposedly died had recently arrived in Kukawa, and no one in it had heard this news, which would have flashed through the rumor mill. And lastly, none of Barth’s servants had shown up in Kukawa to claim their wages, as they surely would have if the explorer were dead. For all these reasons, concluded Herman, “there exists a ray (a faint one I grant) of hope that Dr. Barth may yet be restored to his friends and the world of Science.”
This dispatch reached London in late December. Clarendon passed the faint hope along to Bunsen, who no doubt informed Barth’s family.
ON NOVEMBER 10, 1854, the day after receiving the news of his death, Barth wrote a long letter to Lord Clarendon from Kano. He began with restraint. He said he was enclosing a large detailed map of the Niger between Gao and Say, as well as a letter from the great chief of the Tuaregs that guaranteed safety to all British travelers in his territory.
In the second paragraph his frustration spilled out. “But before making a few remarks,” he wrote, “it seems first necessary, to state & to assure Government, that I am not only alive, but also in tolerable health; for I have become aware, that not only the rumour had been spread of my death, but that in a hurry, which certainly does not seem justifiable, the supplies which partly I had left here, partly had ordered to be deposited here in the firm and loudly proclaimed intention, to return to Hausa, have been withdrawn from me as from a dead person.”
As a consequence, he continued, he was stuck in Kano with a debt of more than 500 dollars and no means whatsoever. “I have been plunged into a state of great perplexity & difficulty, just when I hoped to repose at length from my perilous labours & find a little comfort.” He didn’t know how this “ill-founded” rumour began, but he couldn’t understand why someone had ordered his things seized and removed, especially since he had sent four dispatches from Timbuktu and another from Gao on July 5, which “must by this time also have arrived.” And if they hadn’t (which was the case), Consul Herman should immediately trace them because they contained much valuable information, including four detailed maps of Central Africa.
After this outburst he recovered himself and reported his news, while simultaneously reminding Clarendon of his recent accomplishments on behalf of a government that had seemingly abandoned him. About his trip to Timbuktu: “I may say without the least exaggeration that my arduou
s & perilous undertaking has been crowned with the most splendid success, much more so than I ever might have anticipated with the most sanguine hope.” He noted, with some overstatement, that he had spent seven months there “getting a correct insight into the whole sphere of life of this Queen of the desert, which from time immemorial has excited the most vivid interest of all Europe, & of England in particular.”
He had become intimate friends with the city’s “eminent religious chief,” Sheikh al-Bakkay. He had laid the foundations for political and commercial relations between Britain and Central Africa by signing agreements with Timbuktu, Sokoto, and the large kingdom of Gwandu, which was unknown in Europe until his visit. He had mapped the Niger between Timbuktu and Say, and had gathered much invaluable information about the unknown history of Songhai.
He added—with amusing exaggeration, considering what he had been through—that after living for several months among the western Tuareg tribes, “I have made them accustomed to see Christians among them, have reconciled their hatred against our religion, have concluded cordial friendships with several of their most distinguished men, and have got full franchise and promise of security from their chiefs for any English visiting their territory.”
“So my undertaking may truly be said,” as he said so himself, “to have been crowned with an unparalleled success.” He asked Clarendon to reward al-Bakkay handsomely for protecting him, principally with books in Arabic. And he hoped that with God’s help he would soon follow this dispatch to Europe.
MEANWHILE he remained stuck in Kano. His supplies were gone, most of his horses and camels were dead, and he was broke. Still, he hoped that one of the letters from Zinder would prove helpful. Vice-Consul Dickson had written him from Ghadames in late 1853 to say that two Ghadamsi merchants were holding property of his that could be used as collateral for a loan. Barth approached the merchants and was rebuffed. The merchants took the view that Dickson was far away in the Crimea, so finders, keepers.
Barth appealed to Kano’s ghaladima, the city’s most powerful man after the emir. He agreed to hear the dispute, and did so in public before a large audience curious to see how the Christian would fare. The merchants’ defense: the letter is old and Barth is an infidel. Nevertheless, countered the ghaladima, the infidel’s property does not belong to you—make the loan. The merchants demanded their standard usury—an interest rate of 100 percent. Barth agreed that the British government in Tripoli would repay double the 200-dollar loan in four months. He couldn’t resist pointing out that the loan would have been unnecessary if his supplies had not been snatched from Zinder.
With the money he bought two horses, a couple of camels, and some provisions. After a month in Kano, he left on November 21. “I then pursued my journey with great cheerfulness.” In six months he hoped to be breathing “the invigorating air of the north.”
KUKAWA WAS 400 volatile miles to the east. The coup d’état there had ignited fighting throughout Bornu. Though Umar was back on the throne, skirmishes still flared in the countryside. Marauders were taking advantage of the chaos with sprees of pillage. Barth’s small party passed villages newly burned or desolated, their unharvested crops left in the fields. The town of Gumel, calm and prosperous when Barth first saw it, was now shattered. Barth called on its emir in the charred ruins of the royal residence. Arab merchants were afraid to travel and warned Barth about the dangerous roads ahead. His group sometimes traveled at night to avoid bandits. At one point they didn’t see another person for twenty-five miles, rare in this part of Sudan.
One thing hadn’t changed—the region’s thieves. At Garki, as the camp slept, a nervy robber climbed a baobab tree, crept along its branches, and stole the tobe and trousers belonging to one of Barth’s servants.
On December 1 they broke camp near the village of Bundi, about 225 miles from Kukawa. A few miles later, in the middle of a forest, “I saw advancing toward me a person of strange aspect,” wrote Barth, “—a young man of very fair complexion.” Barth hadn’t seen a white man since Overweg’s death more than two years earlier. The fair rider was Vogel.
This chance meeting stunned them with pleasure. They dismounted and sat. Barth broke out his precious store of coffee, and they talked. “For more than two years now,” he wrote in the German edition of Travels and Discoveries, “I had not heard a word of German or any other European language, and it was an infinite joy for me to be allowed once more to converse in my own language. But our conversation soon turned to subjects that were not so pleasant.”
Barth was amazed to hear that nearly all the supplies and money brought by Vogel were gone. He also learned that Vogel had never opened his letter because the address was in Arabic, which Vogel didn’t understand, so he had put it aside. Consequently, Vogel had only recently learned that Barth was alive. “I could not help reproaching my friend for having too hastily believed the news of my death before he had made all possible inquiries,” wrote Barth, “but as he was a new-comer into this country and did not possess a knowledge of the language, I could easily perceive that he had no means of ascertaining the truth or falsehood of those reports.”
Barth was especially disappointed that Vogel didn’t have a single bottle of wine. “For, having now been for more than three years without a drop of any stimulant except coffee, and having suffered severely from frequent attacks of fever and dysentery, I had an insuperable longing for the juice of the grape, of which former experience taught me the benefit.” He had regained his strength in Asia Minor, he added, by drinking good French wine.
After two hours they parted, with plans to reunite in Kukawa when Vogel returned from Zinder. In Travels and Discoveries Barth gave this meeting less than two pages.
Ten days later Barth neared Kukawa. He sent a letter ahead to Sheikh Umar, who dispatched his chief eunuch and thirty horsemen to escort the explorer back into the city with éclat. He was taken to his old quarters, which felt like home, where he found the British sappers Church and Macguire.
“It might seem that I had overcome all the difficulties in the way of complete success,” wrote Barth, “and that I could now enjoy a short stay in the same place before traversing the last stage of my homeward journey. Such, however,” he continued in the familiar refrain, “was not the case… .”
29
Getting Out
THE FIRST PROBLEM, EVERLASTINGLY, WAS THE MISSION’S LACK OF means. Every time Barth assumed that his troubles were over and his stresses would lessen—in Sokoto, in Kano, in Zinder, and now in Kukawa—he instead found bitter disappointment. Vogel, despite the precautions of Consul Herman, had nearly exhausted the mission’s resources, with help from thievish servants. Further, he had sent one of those thieves to collect Barth’s goods in Zinder, most of which were now missing. Barth had to find a way to finance the 1,500 miles between him and the Mediterranean.
He tried political and ethical leverage on Sheikh Umar. After first giving him a present worth £8, Barth pointed out that unless Umar restored the goods stolen from Zinder during the revolution (the ironware and 400 dollars), and the goods stolen by the person who later fetched Barth’s property, peaceable relations with Britain would be impossible. He asked Umar to track down the thieves and to compensate the British government—Barth suggested camels—for its stolen property. This speech inflamed an important courtier against Barth—he had profited from one of the thefts, carried out by his servant. To counter the courtier’s influence with Umar, Barth made a handsome gift to the sheikh’s brother and urged him to advise Umar to protect Bornu’s friendship with Britain. Barth had long since become adept at the moves and countermoves of African politics. Despite his poverty, he also slaughtered fourteen oxen for the people of Kukawa, to stay in their good graces.
While the sheikh mulled things over, Barth turned to another unexpected headache. Vogel and Corporal Church, one of the British sappers, had become enemies. Church was refusing to take Vogel’s orders. The other sapper, Private Macguire, didn’t share Church�
�s hostility, but supported him out of military and national solidarity. The sappers, who had volunteered for the mission, were charged by the British government to assist Vogel, but neither had accompanied the German scientist on his recent journey to Mandara, and they were now sulking in Kukawa while Vogel went to Zinder.
Barth was “greatly disappointed and grieved” by this conduct. During Vogel’s absence he tried to unravel and fix it. Church expected to find a sympathetic ear in Barth, since the explorer was still upset by Vogel’s failure to investigate the rumor of his death. The sapper told Barth he had tried to warn Vogel about his dishonest servant Mesaud, but had been brushed off. Mesaud was also the source of the rumor about Barth’s death, launched in a scheme to steal the goods in Zinder. Church and Macguire had written about these matters to Consul Herman, and this evidently was the letter that gave Herman faint hope Barth wasn’t dead. But when Vogel learned that Church had criticized him to superiors behind his back, he took offense, which offended Church. Church also accused Vogel of wasting the mission’s resources, and added that the young German spent several hours every day alone with a female slave of Mesaud’s, implying an illicit relationship.
When Vogel returned to Kukawa at the end of December, Barth immediately asked to see the mission’s accounts. He found them in order. As for the female slave, Barth learned that Vogel had saved her and her child during a razzia, and simply enjoyed her occasional company. Vogel’s “purity and almost virginal chastity of manners,” as Barth later wrote, further undermined Church’s slur. Vogel conceded that Church had been right about Mesaud. (After Barth’s appeal to Umar, Mesaud was imprisoned for stealing the goods, some of which were recovered.)
Church’s real complaint, said Vogel, was that he hated the discomforts of life in Africa. He also hated the energetic Vogel’s work habits. (Herman had been wrong about the young German, who was much tougher than he looked.) Church had turned sullen and insolent, refusing to perform his duties as an assistant. Barth saw for himself that all this was true. Church was a difficult character. Barth also saw that these veteran British soldiers resented taking orders from a green young scholar—Vogel was twenty-five—who was German to boot.