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"Why haven't we seen any sign of elephant?" Sebastian asked.
"Me and my boys worked this territory over about six months ago," Fly
In the late afternoon they descended a stony path into a valley, and for the first time Sebastian saw the permanent habitations of man. In irregular shaped plots, the bottom land of the valley was cultivated, and the rich black soil threw up lush green stands of millet, while on the banks of the little stream stood Luti's village; shaggy grass huts, shaped like beehives, each with a circular mud-walled granary standing on stilts beside it. The huts were arranged in a rough circle around an open space where the earth was packed hard by the passage of bare feet.
The entire Population turned out to welcome Fly
three hundred souls, from hobbling old white heads with gri
naked hips, who did not interrupt their feeding but clung like fat black limpets with hands and mouth to the breast.
Through the crowd that ululated and clapped hands in welcome, Fly
Fly
Fly
"You come to hunt elephant?" the chief asked, looking hopefully for Fly
"No." Fly
"From where?"
In answer, Fly
There was an awed murmur from the crowd and the chief nodded sagely. It was clear to all of them that Fini must have been to visit and commune with his aher ego, Monomatapa.
"Will you stay long at our village?" again hopefully.
"I will stay tonight only. I leave again in the dawn."
"I
"Ah!" Disappointment. "We had hoped to welcome you with a dance. Since we heard of your coming, we have prepared."
"No," Fly
"There is a great brewing of palm wine which is only now ready for drinking," the chief tried again, and this time his argument hit Fly
"my friend," said Fly
"Right," agreed Sebastian. "I'm going down to the river to wash."
"You do that," and Fly
Sebastian's progress to the river resembled a Roman triumph. The entire village lined the bank to watch his necessarily limited ablutions with avid interest, and a buzz of awe went up when he disrobed to his underpants.
"Bwana Manali," they chorused. "Lord of the Red Cloth,"
and the name stuck.
As a farewell gift the headman presented Fly
They marched hard all that day and when they camped at nightfall, Fly
From the swamps of the Rufiji delta, Sebastian had brought with him a souvenir of his visit his first full go of malaria.
They reached Lalapanzi the following day, a few hours before the crisis of Sebastian's fever. Lalapanzi was Fly
It was in the hills on a tiny tributary of the great Rovuma river, a hundred miles from the Indian Ocean, but only ten miles from German territory across the river. Fly
Had Sebastian been in full possession of his senses, and not wandering in the hot shadow land of malaria, he would have been surprised by the camp at Lalapanzi. It was not what anybody who knew Fly
Behind a palisade of split bamboo to protect the lawns and gardens from the attentions of the duiker and steenbok and kudu, it glowed like a green jewel in the sombre brown of the hills. Much hard work and patience must have gone into damming the stream, and digging the irrigation furrows, which suckled the lawns and flower-beds and the vegetable garden. Three indigenous fig trees dwarfed the buildings, crimson frangipani burst like fireworks against the green kikuyu grass, beds of bright barber ton daisies ringed the gentle terraces that fell away to the stream, and a bougainvillaea creeper smothered the main building in a profusion of dark green and purple.
Behind the long bungalow, with its wide, open veranda, stood half a dozen circular rondavels, all neatly capped with golden thatch and gleaming painfully white, with burned limestone paint, in the sunlight.