Volume Two—Chapter Thirty Six.

Excursion along the North-Western Frontier of Efát.

The disparaging reflections cast by the chivalrous people of Shoa, in consequence of our refusal to slaughter defenceless pagans during the murderous expedition to Entótto, rendered it imperative that some decided step should be taken by which to wipe out the stain, and restore the tarnished lustre of the British name. The destruction of an adult elephant, which is reckoned equivalent to that of forty Galla, is an achievement that had not been accomplished within the memory of the present age, although mentioned in traditions connected with the exploits of the most renowned Ethiopic warriors. I accordingly solicited permission to visit the distant wilderness of Giddem, on the northern frontier of Efát, in the dense forests of which the giant of the mammalia was reported to reside—a pretext which further afforded plausible grounds for exploring a portion of the country reputed to be amongst the most fertile and productive in Abyssinia.

The king opened his eyes wider than usual at this unprecedented application. “My children,” he returned deliberately, “how can this be? Elephants are not to be slain with rifle balls. They will demolish you; and what answer am I then to give? The gun is the medicine for the Galla in the tree, but it has no effect upon the zihoon.” (Elephant.)

Finding me resolved, however. His Majesty’s most gracious permission was finally accorded to depart forthwith, and orders were issued to a royal messenger who was appointed to accompany us, commanding the governors of provinces through which the route lay, to afford every assistance in their power to “the strong strangers of the Negoos.” But all assertions relative to the possibility of destroying the monarch of the forest were still received with an incredulous shake of the head; and whilst not the smallest expectations were entertained at court of the success of the Gyptzis, the greatest ridicule attended an undertaking which, by all classes at the capital, was considered certain to prove alike foolhardy, dangerous, and futile.

Instructions had been issued that the king’s guests were to be conducted by the royal road over the Gorabéla mountain, a singular mark of condescension, partaken but by few in the realm. This permission enabled us to enjoy a most extensive panorama from the heather-grown heights. Mamrat reared her stupendous head perpendicularly from the dark-wooded bosom of the valley, and seemed half buried in the clouds. The palisaded buildings of the palace covering the slope of its isolated hill frowned in pride over the numberless circular houses of the straggling eastern metropolis. Clumps of the sombre juniper, and spreading cossos hung with red garlands of mast, formed vistas on every side. On the one hand rose the lofty blue range of Bulga, and on the other the eye ranged uncontrolled over the boundless plains of the savage Ada?el, spread out below like a great chart, and embracing a prospect of many hundred square miles. In the centre soared the stern crater of Abida—the beacon which, in days long gone, marked the dominions of the proud emperors of Ethiopia, when, according to the traditionary couplet, “their sceptre swayed from Azulo to the Bashilo, and from Errur to Gondar.”

The porters at the royal lodge were on the alert, and adjurations by the king’s life were not wanting to deter our advance to the Airára. “Bu Negoos,” “Bu Sáhela Selássie amlak,” were talismanic words energetically vociferated, and a heavy staff was thumped across the path in earnest of its being closed to plebeian transit. But where is the Abyssinian who is proof against bribery and corruption? Beads will force a passage when the mandate of the throne is received with incredulity, and the dollars of Maria Theresa, if possessing all the requisite marks, will insure participation even in a crown monopoly.

An exceedingly steep path conducts to the summit of the Chaka; but it is here paved throughout with boulders, so supported at intervals by transverse beams, as to form a succession of clumsy steps, constituting the only made road in the kingdom of Shoa. The heather ceases with the Gorabéla mountain; and from the summit of the now bare range the route we were to follow strikes off near the residence of a petty governor, who bears the singular name of “Mout bai nore legne.”

“Oh, that there were no death for me!” is the interpretation thereof; but judging from the appearance of the lord of the manor, who numbers some threescore years, he is not likely long to find his wish realised. Engaged in earnest conversation with the old man, was Ayto Guebroo, who, in consequence of inability to check the repeated rebellions of the Loomi, by whom he so recently was wounded, had at last been deprived of his government and of his silver sword, and was on his way to the presence of the despot in deep disgrace.

The Abyssinian verdure is singularly evanescent, a month without a shower being sufficient to dry up the rich herbage, and to darken the hue of the foliage; but the “rain of Bounty,” which usually falls in February, giving a fresh impulse to vegetation, the hills and valleys again teem with abundance. November was fast drawing to a close, and the aspect of the country generally was brown and withered. The best pastures were covered with the sleek beeves swept off from Finfinni, and the cornfields were yellow with the royal crops now under the sickle, whilst in the numerous threshing-floors muzzled oxen were already treading out the grain.

Our route led across Motátit and the Toro Mesk, through dales and over hills abutting upon the face of the bluff frontier of Shoa, in which are the sources of many of the more distant tributaries to the blue Nile. Never was there a tract more destitute of birds or wild animals, a few plovers and larks, with some of the more common species of Rodentia, being the only objects of natural history observed during a march of twelve miles, which led to the halting ground in the centre of the little village of Asóphee, opposite to the frowning mountain Koorománia.

Under our flimsy cotton awnings, the night proved intensely cold; and on resuming the journey at an early hour the ensuing morning, over a swelling country thickly dotted with Christian hamlets, we found the more sheltered pools by the road-side covered with a thin coating of ice, the first witnessed since our arrival in Abyssinia. At the village of Amaráguê, hospitable entertainment had been prepared by Ayto Egázoo, whose name signifies, “May they buy.” This notable warrior had, prior to the late foray, introduced himself to me, somewhat k-propos of his title, by an ingenious but abortive attempt to sell an unsound horse. Dismounting on the right side from the identical straw-coloured steed, he now placed himself, with shoulders bared, in the middle of the road, and by the life of the king adjured us to enter his abode, in order to partake of a sheep that had been expressly slaughtered.

Wulleta Selássie, his comely partner, daughter to Shishigo, the governor of Shoa-meda, had kindled in the dark hall the fiercest of fires, and immediately on the termination of complimentary inquiries, an ox-hide being spread, the heavy door was barred to exclude the evil eye. Raw collops having been steadily rejected, bones, singed in a somewhat cannibal-like fashion, were rapidly circulated by the attentive host. “Take the eye,” he repeated, coaxingly, to each in turn, presenting at the same time betwixt his finger and thumb the extracted orb of the deceased mutton—“do, the eye is the daintiest part. No!—well you must eat this marrow,” crushing the uncooked shank with a grinding-stone handed by a slave girl, and extending the splintered fragments to be sucked. Overflowing bumpers of sour beer having been filled in a gloomy corner at a huge earthen jar, each horn was tasted by the cup-bearer from the hollow of his palm, in demonstration of the absence of poison. The surplus repast, fluid as well as solid, quickly disappeared under the united efforts of the retinue; and a bead necklace having been hung about the neck of the lady’s hopeful son and heir, we finally effected our escape from the ovenlike apartment, with the aid of divers promises made to both master and mistress, and sundry pieces of silver disbursed to silence a host of importunate menials.

Ayto Egázoo rode forth, in accordance with etiquette, “to see the party off.” From the courtyard of his snug but dirty domicile, Tegulet, and the blue hills of Argobba and of the Wollo Galla, bounded the extensive prospect. Regaining the road, we crossed in succession the Tekroos-Bádo, Moosh, and Goodawurud rivers, all remote sources of the blue Nile. On the banks of the latter stands the monastery of Saint George, famous as having been left unmolested when the district was in the hands of the Galla, many of whom are even said to have been converted to Christianity. Goodawurud was the title of a potent chieftain, who, with Merkurri, Amadich, and Logo, held the country after Graan’s desolating visit, until expelled by Asfa Woosen; and a considerable portion of the revenues are now applied to the maintenance of the monastery of Medák, whose superior, the Alaka Amda Zion, has charge of the heir presumptive.

Nothing could exceed the beauty of the position selected by the cowled fraternity of Saint George; large bands of whom, lounging away their hours of idleness beneath the funereal junipers in which the retreat is deeply embosomed, were for once aroused from listless apathy by the passing cavalcade of white strangers. The land swarms with friars, monks, and anchorites, who are habited in yellow dresses, as the badge of poverty, or in the prepared skin of the antelope. Usually licentious in their manners, they roam through the country a perfect pest and plague to society. Men become monks at any period of life. Those who are afflicted with grievous sickness, vow that in event of recovery they will abandon the world, and transfer all their moveables to the church. The rich often deliver over their property to their children, who are bound to support them until death. The poor subsist upon the bounty of the king and of the community; and many never enter the cells of the monastery at all, but with their wives reside at ease in their own homes, having assumed the counterfeit piety of the order solely for the sake of defrauding their creditors—since, however deeply involved, all former scores may be cleared off with the ease and rapidity of the most indulgent court of insolvency, by the simple process of “putting on angels’ clothing.”

The skin of the Agazin is usually adopted as the garb of humiliation; and this emblem, together with the unwashed person, is intended to commemorate the legend of their great founder Eustathius, who boasted of having performed no ablution during a long term of existence, and who miraculously crossed the river Jordan, floating securely upon his greasy cloak. The prophet Samuel is also sometimes referred to as affording another notable example of the advantage extended by the mantle of hide, in the asserted fact of his having sailed seven days across a great sea, borne in safety, with his disciples, upon his leathern robe.

Throughout Shoa, lakes are believed to form the great rendezvous of evil spirits; and in one called Nugáreet-fer, at the foot of the hills, the drum of the water kelpie is frequently heard, to the no small terror of the superstitious auditors. Shortly after crossing the stony bed of the Daimadamash, a road branches off to Angollála and Debra Berhán, past the monastery of Máskalie Ghedam, a title signifying “My cross is a convent.” Beyond the Dewásha, a second strikes northward to Gondar, past the seat of government of Zenama Work, the Queen-dowager, which occupies a beautifully rounded tumulus styled Zalla Dingai, “The rolling stone.”

“Bad people,” saith the tradition attached to this spot, “were one day seated upon a rock that formerly occupied the summit of the hill. They were telling lies, and busied in contriving tricks by which to circumvent their neighbours. Suddenly the mass gave way, and all who sat thereon, being precipitated into the deep torrent that rolls beneath to join the river Mofa, were crushed to atoms for their evil doings.”

After fording the Goor river, and ascending a high ridge, the Queen’s white palace forms a striking object in the landscape; and beyond it is a square eminence, where, under the eye of the erudite Alaka Woldáb, the reigning monarch passed his earlier years, until the assassination of his sire opened to him the accession. From this point we obtained an extensive view over Geshe and Efrata, with the Great Sáka mountains stretching towards the Nile. A little further on the heather-grown range suddenly terminates in an abrupt descent of full three thousand feet, at the foot of which lies the rugged province of Efát, blending into the blue plains of the Ada?el. The great beacon Azulo, with the wide crater of Abida, hazy and hot, were visible in the east. Afrubba, and the high hills of the Ittoo Galla, rose in the distance, and a perfect chaos of rude disjointed mountains lay piled towards Ankóber, seeming as though they had been gathered from many countries, and pitched together by giant handfuls, to fill up the deep intervening chasm.

Hitherto the road had been rough and stony—the eminences steep and bare; and after passing the sombre groves of Saint George, the only redeeming feature was the church dedicated to “Our Lady,” reposing quietly amid the rich foliage of the “cosso,” and other large-leafed forest trees. In many respects the face of the country now resembled the sides of the great Indian Ghauts—masses of light brown, chequered with pale yellow; but stubble or standing corn in every accessible nook and corner usurped the place of the wild grass, with which nature so prodigally clothes the mountain scenery of the East. Numerous parties, consisting of twenty or thirty peasants, carrying on their heads bales of coarse cotton cloth as tribute to the king, passed us at intervals—the sword by their side and the spear in their hand, indicating that the frontier along which they journeyed was in a far from settled state.

This tract of high land, which forms the watershed between the Nile and the Háwash, is richly cultivated and abundantly irrigated—a fresh stream, on its course to the former river, intersecting the western side of the range, and forming a deep valley every second or third mile. After leaving the Goor, however, the face of the country, becoming more sterile, is covered with heather, and for the last few miles to the top of the Turmáber pass, neither village nor cultivation is to be seen.

During the descent, which passes through a gap in the precipitous trap rocks, and is steeper and even worse than that of the Chaka, the bleak and lofty peaks of Arámba, Gaifaiyétto, Wóti, Mamrat, Kondie, and Wofásha, are severally revealed to view; these forming a continuation of the great mountain range which fortifies the whole eastern frontier of Shoa, from Bulga to Worra Káloo, and extends thence through Ambásel, Yedjow, and Lasta, to Simien, the highest point of Abyssinia. From the foot of this pass the road leads across the Telúnko, close to Debra Sena, a small eminence covered as with an inverted bowl, by a dense, cabbage-shaped clump of junipers, concealing Saint George’s church—a celebrated shrine for the performance of vows and orisons, which is visited from great distances. Hence the route winds to the bottom of a deep wooded dell, rich in botanical specimens, where the clear stream of the Telúnko is again crossed, to the face of a steep acclivity leading to Dokáket, the ancient capital of Emmaha Yasoos, third monarch of Shoa.

The sun was dipping below the opposite range as a halt was proclaimed by the King’s guide at the house of Ayto Abaiyo Gurwa, the governor of the district, whose hospitality proved unbounded. For a full hour he continued shouting and scolding, ordering and countermanding; and whilst he expressed the greatest mortification at my declining to appropriate two fat oxen, in addition to liberal supplies of sheep, bread, mead, and beer, he was with difficulty prevailed upon to accept a present that I had prepared in acknowledgment; a piece of self-denial rarely experienced at the hands of a native of Southern Abyssinia.

“But,” he added, “henceforth you may know me as your friend; therefore send to me frequently, and I will tell you when I have any concern. Wolda Mariam, my henchman, who is here, is in my confidence. Furthermore, he will visit you on my part. Appoint now a báldoroba, who may introduce him, that access be not impeded.” The party nominated as the medium of communication stepped to the front, and the two, baring their shoulders, and bowing the one to the other, fell back into their respective places.

Ankóber is the capital of the eastern division of the kingdom of Shoa, in which are comprised the provinces of Basso, Dabdábo, Karába, Kawt, Mans, Giddem, Abómesa, Mahhfood, and Dokáket. The last-named especially forms the scene of constant inroads from the savage Ada?el, whose country lies little more than a cannon shot below; the Amhára, who on the Fárri boundary are severely punished by the politic monarch for taking a life, even in retribution, flocking hither to entitle themselves to wear the decoration of the “akodáma,” the ne plus ultra of their ambition. And such is the bitter hatred subsisting between the two nations so closely bordering upon each other, that but for the lofty hills and cold climate of Ankóber, the Moslems, who are the far braver race, would doubtless have paid its Christian population a hostile visit long ere now. On the adjacent northern frontier, the intricate labyrinth of broken ravines, over which our view had ranged in the morning, forms a strong natural barrier against the Wollo Galla, whose incursions are nevertheless frequent; whilst the Túlema, residing in the Sáka range, entertain as decided a disinclination to descend from their own bleak hills, as do the Amhára to visit the hot valleys and forests of the Ada?el, which stretch beyond the borders of Efát.