French enterprise in Africa : $b the personal narrative of Lieut. Hourst of his exploration of the NigerHourst
History
French enterprise in Africa : $b the personal narrative of Lieut. Hourst of his exploration of the Niger
Hourst
French -- Sudan; Mali -- Description and travel; Niger River -- Description and travel; Tuaregs
The old chimpanzee, for such he really seemed, did however manage,
through the intermediary of Hadji Hamet, to let us know that he
was thirsty. A glass of _eau sucrée_ with an extra supply of sugar
only drew from him a grimace of dissatisfaction. He wanted something
very different, and Hadji Hamet put out all his eloquence to make
Father Hacquart understand what sort of drink it was the chief was
craving for. The Father did not at first understand, but presently
clapping his hand on his forehead, he exclaimed, “He wants some
champagne! Impossible! he cannot know what it is, but he is certainly
asking for a drink that goes pop and fizzes. It is very evident that
he does mean champagne!”
So we actually drank champagne in N. Lat. 11° 39′, with a negro
potentate resembling a monkey. Fortunately for our credit we had
brought with us, not as a beverage, but as a medicine, two cases
of wine manufactured at Rheims. As none of us had had the bilious
attacks which this wine was intended to correct, the cases were
still pretty well intact. We reflected that we were now near our
journey’s end, and therefore decided to spare from our pharmacy
a few bottles of the precious liquid, which we hoped would not be
found inferior to that of our predecessors, whoever they might be,
who had given his Majesty of Ilo a taste for the wine which goes pop!
The arrival of our flasks of champagne was the signal for a regular
carousal. From every side large jars of millet beer were brought
by the assembled crowds, and all present began plunging little
calabashes, which served as drinking cups, into them. In half-an-hour
the chief, his court, and all the men and women who had flocked
together, even the children, were tipsy.
Needless to add that we had to put off all hope of making serious
arrangements until later. When the time came to go, it was all his
people could do to get the chief on to his steed. His suite were
all probably as unsteady as himself. At last by hook or by crook our
visitors decided to take their leave, and reeled away, many of the
women often stumbling or falling, not making quite as much noise as
on their arrival in the morning, for the trumpeters were now unable
to blow a blast on their instruments.
We waited all the afternoon in vain for the arrival of the guide. At
last, about half-past five, an envoy from the chief appeared. He
informed us that it was five years since the latter had sent a present
to his relation at Bussa. It would not therefore be fitting for him
to have us guided into that relative’s district without supporting
the demand for our reception with the customary gift. He could not
send that gift, so his guide was to take us to Gomba only.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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