We ran across the second imbecile gerenuk, and B.
collected it! These two were the only ones we ever got within
decent shot of, and they sandwiched themselves neatly with lions.
Truly, it WAS our day.
After a time we gave it up, and went back to measure and
photograph our latest prize. It proved to be a male, maneless,
two inches shorter than that killed by B., and three feet five
and one half inches tall at the shoulder. My bullet had reached
the brain just over the left eye.
Now, toward sunset, we headed definitely toward camp. The long
shadows and beautiful lights of evening were falling across the
hills far the other side the Isiola. A little breeze with a touch
of coolness breathed down from distant unseen Kenia. We plodded
on through the grass quite happily, noting the different animals
coming out to the cool of the evening. The line of brush that
marked the course of the Isiola came imperceptibly nearer until
we could make out the white gleam of the porters' tents and wisps
of smoke curling upward.
Then a small black mass disengaged itself from the camp and came
slowly across the prairie in our direction. As it approached we
made it out to be our Monumwezis, twenty strong. The news of the
lions had reached them, and they were coming to meet us. They
were huddled in a close knot, their heads inclined toward the
centre. Each man carried upright a peeled white wand. They moved
in absolute unison and rhythm, on a slanting zigzag in our
direction: first three steps to the right, then three to the
left, with a strong stamp of the foot between. Their bodies
swayed together. Sulimani led them, dancing backward, his wand
upheld.
"Sheeka!" he enunciated in a piercing half whistle.
And the swaying men responded in chorus, half hushed, rumbling,
with strong aspiration.
"Goom zoop! goom zoop!"
When fifty yards from us, however, the formation broke and they
rushed us with a yell. Our horses plunged in astonishment, and we
had hard work to prevent their bolting, small blame to 'em! The
men surrounded us, shaking our hands frantically. At once they
appropriated everything we or our gunbearers carried. One who got
left otherwise insisted on having Billy's parasol. Then we all
broke for camp at full speed, yelling like fiends, firing our
revolvers in the air. It was a grand entry, and a grand
reception. The rest of the camp poured out with wild shouts. The
dark forms thronged about us, teeth flashing, arms waving. And in
the background, under the shadows of the trees were the
Monumwezis, their formation regained, close gathered, heads bent,
two steps swaying to the right-stamp! two steps swaying to the
left-stamp!-the white wands gleaming, and the rumble of their
lion song rolling in an undertone:
"Goom zoop! goom zoop!"
XV. THE LION DANCE
We took our hot baths and sat down to supper most gratefully, for
we were tired. The long string of men, bearing each a log of
wood, filed in from the darkness to add to our pile of fuel.
Saa-sita and Shamba knelt and built the night fire. In a moment
the little flame licked up through the carefully arranged
structure. We finished the meal, and the boys whisked away the
table.
Then out in the blackness beyond our little globe of light we
became aware of a dull confusion, a rustling to and fro. Through
the shadows the eye could guess at movement. The confusion
steadied to a kind of rhythm, and into the circle of the fire
came the group of Monumwezis. Again they were gathered together
in a compact little mass; but now they were bent nearly double,
and were stripped to the red blankets about their waists. Before
them writhed Sulimani, close to earth, darting irregularly now to
right, now to left, wriggling, spreading his arms abroad. He was
repeating over and over two phrases; or rather the same phrase
in two such different intonations that they seemed to convey
quite separate meanings.
"Ka soompeele?" he cried with a strongly appealing interrogation.
"Ka soompeele!" he repeated with the downward inflection of
decided affirmation.
And the bent men, their dark bodies gleaming in the firelight,
stamping in rhythm every third step, chorused in a deep rumbling
bass:
"Goom zoop! goom zoop!"
Thus they advanced; circled between us and the fire, and withdrew
to the half darkness, where tirelessly they continued the same
reiterations.
Hardly had they withdrawn when another group danced forward in
their places. These were the Kikuyus. They had discarded
completely their safari clothes, and now came forth dressed out
in skins, in strips of white cloth, with feathers, shells and
various ornaments. They carried white wands to represent spears,
and they sang their tribal lion song. A soloist delivered the
main argument in a high wavering minor and was followed by a deep
rumbling emphatic chorus of repetition, strongly accented so that
the sheer rhythm of it was most pronounced:
"An-gee a Ka ga An-gee a Ka ga An-gee a Ka ga Ki ya Ka ga Ka
ga an gee ya!"
Solemnly and loftily, their eyes fixed straight before them they
made the circle of the fire, passed before our chairs, and
withdrew to the half light. There, a few paces from the stamping,
crouching Monumwezis, they continued their performance.
The next to appear were the Wakambas. These were more
histrionic. They too were unrecognizable as our porters, for they
too had for the lion discarded their work-a-day garments in
favour of savage. They produced a pantomime of the day's doings,
very realistic indeed, ending with a half dozen of dark swaying
bodies swinging and shuddering in the long grass as lions, while
the "horses" wove in and out among the crouching forms, all done
to the beat of rhythm.
