"On his head was a pith helmet that had once been white, round which was
wound a yard or more of bright-red calico. A dozen strings of gaudy
beads bound his throat and half covered his bare chest. After that there
was nothing but his naked skin--back and front, as far down as his
waist, from which hung a frock of blue denim falling to his knees--then
more bare skin, and then his feet wrapped in goat-skins. In his hand he
carried a staff which he swung from side to side as he walked with
lordly stride.
"His harem followed: thirty girls in single file, dressed in the
prevailing fashion of the day--a petticoat of plantain leaves and a
string of beads. Each of them carried a gaudy paper umbrella like those
sold at home for sixpence. Some of the girls were slim and tall, some
fat; but all were young and all bore themselves with an air of calm
distinction, as if conscious of their alliance with a superior race.
Bringing up the rear was a long line of carriers loaded down with tents,
provisions, and other camp equipage.
"When it had all passed I stepped quickly through the forest, got
abreast of my lord the white man, and shouted:
"'Goringe!'
"He turned suddenly, lifted the edge of his helmet, threw his staff to
one of his men, and came quickly toward me.
"'By the Eternal, but I'm glad to see you! I was afraid you were going
back on me! It was awfully decent in you to come. You didn't mind my
sending for you, did you? I've got to make the next village by sundown,
and then I'm going up into the Hill Country, and may not be this way
again for months--perhaps never. How well you look! What do you think of
my turnout?'
"I told him in reply, that it was rather remarkable--about as
uncivilized as anything I had ever seen--and was on the point of asking
some uncomfortable questions when, noting my disapproval, he switched
off by explaining that it was the only way he could make a penny, and
again turned the conversation by exclaiming abruptly:
"'Saw my wives, didn't you?-every one of them the daughter of a chief.
You see, I buy the girl, and so get even with her father, am made High
Pan-Jam with the red button and feather, or next of kin to the chief by
blood-letting--anything they want. I'm scarred all up now mixing my
precious ancestral fluid with that of these blacklegs, and am first
cousin to half the cutthroats on the river. Next I start on the
carriers, pick 'em out myself, and send 'em down to the agent. The home
company is getting ugly, so I hear, and wonder why they owe me so much
for the carriers I've sent them--pretty near six hundred pounds
sterling, now. They think there is something crooked about it, but I'm
keeping it up. I'm going down when the row is over and present my bill,
and they've got to pay it or I'll know the reason why. Now we'll have
tiffin.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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