When I walked through a crowd, Memba Sasa zealously
kicked everybody out of my royal path. When I started to issue a
command, Memba Sasa finished it and amplified it and put a
snapper on it. When I came into camp, Memba Sasa saw to it
personally that my tent went up promptly and properly, although
that was really not part of his "cazi" at all. And when somewhere
beyond my ken some miserable boy had committed a crime, I never
remained long in ignorance of that fact.
Perhaps I happened to be sitting in my folding chair idly smoking
a pipe and reading a book. Across the open places of the camp
would stride Memba Sasa, very erect, very rigid, moving in short
indignant jerks, his eye flashing fire. Behind him would sneak a
very hang-dog boy. Memba Sasa marched straight up to me, faced
right, and drew one side, his silence sparkling with honest
indignation.
"Just look at THAT!" his attitude seemed to say, "Could you
believe such human depravity possible? And against OUR authority?"
He always stood, quite rigid, waiting for me to speak.
"Well, Memba Sasa?" I would inquire, after I had enjoyed the show
a little.
In a few restrained words he put the case before me, always
briefly, always with a scornful dignity. This shenzi has done
so-and-so.
