In Among These Crowds Of Country People Walk Stately Mohammedans,
Mandingoes, Akers, And Fulahs Of The Arabised Tribes Of The Western
Soudan.
These are lithe, well-made men, and walk with a peculiarly
fine, elastic carriage.
Their graceful garb consists of a long
white loose-sleeved shirt, over which they wear either a long black
mohair or silk gown, or a deep bright blue affair, not altogether
unlike a University gown, only with more stuff in it and more folds.
They are undoubtedly the gentlemen of the Sierra Leone native
population, and they are becoming an increasing faction in the town,
by no means to the pleasure of the Christians.
But to the casual visitor at Sierra Leone the Mohammedan is a mere
passing sensation. You neither feel a burning desire to laugh with,
or at him, as in the case of the country folks, nor do you wish to
punch his head, and split his coat up his back - things you yearn to
do to that perfect flower of Sierra Leone culture, who yells your
bald name across the street at you, condescendingly informs you that
you can go and get letters that are waiting for you, while he smokes
his cigar and lolls in the shade, or in some similar way displays
his second-hand rubbishy white culture - a culture far lower and less
dignified than that of either the stately Mandingo or the bush
chief. I do not think that the Sierra Leone dandy really means half
as much insolence as he shows; but the truth is he feels too
insecure of his own real position, in spite of all the "side" he
puts on, and so he dare not be courteous like the Mandingo or the
bush Fan.
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