Sun, Sand and Somals: Leaves from the note-book of a District Commissioner in British SomalilandRayne, Henry A.
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Sun, Sand and Somals: Leaves from the note-book of a District Commissioner in British Somaliland
Rayne, Henry A.
British Somaliland
Adan agreed it was trying. He had noticed the nuisance himself, and
if the old man had told him before, he would have had it remedied.
He was quite prepared to have a muster now, and thirteen young imps
of mischief--they were all there, every mother's son and daughter
of them--were paraded and informed that, between the hours of two
and four p.m. daily, the wooden door on side number one was barred
to all children under pain of being flayed alive, cut to pieces, or
sent to jail, or all three. There was a grass door on side number
two, which no one could bang, and which was at their service. By
which order and threats, I am sure, Adan made the wooden door near
the old Arab's head, when he is lying down, the most irresistible
spot in the world to bang. There'll be more to come of it. "Wait and
see!"
What with Arab pirates, Arab robbers, truculent Arab neighbours, a
livelihood that requires diving for with only one leg--not to speak
of sharks, and thirteen young sheitans requiring a strong right arm
to keep them in order--I shall surely not be accused of exaggeration
when I describe the life of Adan Abdallah, the Soudanese, as being
an eventful one.
CHAPTER XVII
MANY TRIBES
Hayoun the Jew "At Home"--Hayoun's largesse--Hindus, Parsees and
vaccination--Buralli's knowledge of legs.
The élite of our town is composed almost entirely of Arabs, Indians,
and Jews, who mix little with the Somals. Of course, money talks,
and Haji Abdi Kheiri, the rich Somal trader, is getting his foot
into the higher circles, but as yet he is little at ease amid the
gaiety of social gatherings. Yesterday Hayoun the Jew invited all
the notabilities, of whom I am one--I must speak up for myself--to
a gathering at his house. There were present the Indian customs
superintendent, the Hindu assistant-surgeon, the District Clerk, two
Parsees, a Goanese clerk, a few Arabs, Haji Abdi Kheiri, and myself.
Everyone was courteous and polite, and all were most obsequious to
me. As I climbed on to the flat open roof to join the party Haji
Abdi Kheiri fired off his gun five times. This in my honour, but
being unused to such displays I thought I had been drawn into an
ambush placed ready to take my life, and, for a second, I had an
instinct to jump back and down the steep steps. One acts hurriedly
on such occasions, I mean when one thinks there's danger, but,
fortunately for my reputation, I caught a glimpse of Hayoun's face.
He was cool and unexcited; so reasoning that he would not look like
that were there any trouble, as his date of decease in such a case
would not be many seconds later than mine, of which fact he would be
well aware, I advanced with a laugh and said, "Good afternoon."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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