File:A voice from the Congo - comprising stories, anecdotes, and descriptive notes (1910) (14760649856).jpg

Identifier: voicefromcongoco00ward (find matches)
Title: A voice from the Congo : comprising stories, anecdotes, and descriptive notes
Year: 1910 (1910s)
Authors: Ward, Herbert, 1863-1919
Subjects: Ward, Herbert, 1863-1919 Africa, Central -- Description and travel Africa, Central -- Social life and customs
Publisher: New York : Charles Scribner's Sons
Contributing Library: University of Connecticut Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Connecticut Libraries

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elsewhere.1 Of all the many tragedies which markthat epoch, there was one particularly pathetic in-cident which will always remain engraven on mymind. It was noon. The heat was intense, and the airwas filled with buzzing insects. The suns glare wasblinding. There was a sour and pungent odour, aris-ing from the decaying refuse which lay about theoutskirts of the camp. An unfortunate Zanzibari,whose legs were covered with suppurating ulcers,crawled along the ground with the aid of a stick. Iexpostulated with him for exposing himself to theintense heat of the sun, and offered to aid him to takeshelter in a hut near by. Dropping his stick, heclasped his hands together and looked up into myface. The expression in his eyes seemed to burninto my soul. O master, said he, yesterday, my friend—thefriend of my youth, died; they buried him yonder;we swore never to be parted. Alikua rafiki angusana. (He was my great friend.) And with an im- *My Life with Stanleys Rear Guard. Chatto & Windus.
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SOUVENIRS 211 ploring glance which still haunts me, lie continued:O Bwana wangu! (Let me follow him.) With difficulty I succeeded to some extent in sooth-ing the mans grief, and I left him within the camp,where at least he might lie protected from the sunand the tormenting flies. That night a terrific storm swept over the forest,one of those tornadoes which are peculiar to thetropical regions of Africa, and of the violence of whichit is difficult to give an adequate description. Itwas my duty that night to visit the sentries, for wewere living in troublous times and from experiencewe knew that it was upon such occasions as thisthat attacks were made by the ever-watchful nativeswho surrounded us. Floundering along in the drenching rain, dazedby of the deafening roar of thunder and beingblinded from time to time by the vivid flashes oflightning which seemed to cleave the sky close abovemy head, I tripped and fell over a soft body whichlay across my path. Procuring a fire stick from anad

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