The city of these Amazons, numbering forty-two tokuls in a line along the river, was immediately followed, however, by the city, or a village, of the men. These summer huts have partly the form of tokuls, with only slightly elevated pointed roofs; partly they were huts with a mere covering, as a protection against the weather, and frequently so small that they could only be built for the young cattle. The hills of ashes, the real places of rest for the night, were surrounded with a wall of reeds on one side, to shelter them from the wind. The huts might be here about two hundred in number; near them on every side rose the smoke of small piles of dung: close at hand, the stakes stood, to which the oxen were fastened in the evening. The horned cattle, and even the little goats, go cheerfully to the smoke, because they know they are protected there from gnats. The men here behave very quietly, and do not seem to have known that they would meet us when driving home their cattle. As they do not come to us, we go ashore to them. The sheikh of this tribe visits us in quite a friendly manner; he is invested by us with a red shirt, and with a gay-coloured pocket-handkerchief round his head, as well as strings of beads round his neck. In vain Thibaut and I gave ourselves the trouble of trying to learn, with the assistance of our stupid interpreters, something from these Keks; for they appear to be unwilling to mention names, as if evil might happen to the person whom it concerns. The village is called Min, Mim, Mièmn, ever according to the different pronunciation of the people, and, as Selim Capitan afterwards asserted, “Bakak.”