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The Land of Footprints-Part25_Stewart Edward White(1873-1946)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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post. One large native safari composedexclusively of women were



transporting loads of trade goods for the Indian trader. They

carried their burdens on their backs by means of a strap passing



over the top of the head; our own "tump line" method. The labour

seemed in no way to have dashed their spirits, for they grinned



at us, and joked merrily with our boys. Along the way, every once

in a while, we came upon people squatted down behind small stocks



of sugarcane, yams, bananas, and the like. With these our boys

did a brisk trade. Little paths led mysteriously into the jungle.



Down them came more savages to greet us. Everybody was most

friendly and cheerful, thanks to Horne's personal influence. Two



years before this same lot had been hostile. From every hidden

village came the headmen or chiefs. They all wanted to shake



hands-the ordinary citizen never dreamed of aspiring to that

honour-and they all spat carefully into their palms before they



did so. This all had to be done in passing; for ordinary village

headmen it was beneath Our Dignity to draw rein. Once only we



broke over this rule. That was in the case of an old fellow with

white hair who managed to get so tangled up in the shrubbery that



he could not get to us. He was so frantic with disappointment

that we made an exception and waited.



About three miles out, we lost one of our newly acquired totos.

Reason: an exasperated parent who had followed from Meru for the



purpose of reclaiming his runaway offspring. The latter was

dragged off howling. Evidently he, like some of his civilized



cousins, had "run away to join the circus." As nearly as we could

get at it, the rest of the totos, as well as the nine additional



we picked up before we quitted the jungle, had all come with

their parents' consent. In fact, we soon discovered that we could



buy any amount of good sound totos, not house broke however, for

an average of half a rupee (16-1/2 cents) apiece.



The road was very much up and down hill over the numerous ridges

that star-fish out from Mt. Kenia. We would climb down steep



trails from 200 to 800 feet (measured by aneroid), cross an

excellent mountain stream of crystallinedashing water, and climb



out again. The trails of course had no notion of easy grades. It

was very hard work, especially for men with loads; and it would



have been impossible on account of the heat were it not for the

numerous streams. On the slopes and in the bottoms were patches



of magnificent forest; on the crests was the jungle, and

occasionally an outlook over extended views. The birds and the



strange tropical big-leaved trees were a constant delight-exotic

and strange. Billy was in a heaven of joy, for her specialty in



Africa was plants, seeds and bulbs, for her California garden.

She had syces, gunbearers and tent boys all climbing, shaking



branches, and generally pawing about.

This idiosyncracy of Billy's puzzled our boys hugely. At first



they tried telling her that everything was poisonous; but when

that did not work, they resigned themselves to their fate. In



fact, some of the most enterprising like Memba Sasa, Kitaru, and,

later, Kongoni used of their own accord to hunt up and bring in



seeds and blossoms. They did not in the least understand what it

was for; and it used to puzzle them hugely until out of sheer



pity for their uneasiness, I implied that the Memsahib collected

"medicine." That was rational, so the wrinkled brow of care was



smoothed. From this botanical trait, Billy got her native name of

"Beebee Kooletta"-"The Lady Who Says: Go Get That." For in



Africa every white man has a name by which he is known among the

native people. If you would get news of your friends, you must



know their local cognomens-their own white man names will not do

at all. For example, I was called either Bwana Machumwani or



Bwana N'goma. The former means merely Master Four-eyes, referring

to my glasses. The precise meaning of the latter is a matter much



disputed between myself and Billy. An N'goma is a native dance,

consisting of drum poundings, chantings, and hoppings around.



Therefore I translate myself (most appropriately) as the Master

who Makes Merry. On the other hand, Billy, with true feminine



indirectness, insists that it means "The Master who Shouts and

Howls." I leave it to any fairminded reader.



About the middle of the morning we met a Government runner, a

proud youth, young, lithe, with many ornaments and bangles; his






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