RIP VAN WINKLE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21912, 22 September 1934, Page 2 (Supplement)

RIP VAN WINKLE

BACK FROM THE JUNGLES ' i FIRST KISS. FOR 20 YEARS I LONDON LIFE ONCE MORE j r Frederick Merfield, possibly the most famous " White Hunter " Africa has ever known, recently returned to Eng.? land after 25 years spent in the jungles and forests of the French Cameroons. He is a modern Rip Van Winkle. For a quarter of a century he has- been almost completely cut off from civilisation. Wireless, the aeroplane, motor, buses, beach pyjamas, express trains and short skirts have boon as legendary to him until now as the dragons of fairy tale. Here is the New World through his eyes:— " It is no joke bem;; a modern Rip Van Winkle. Every now and then I take a look at a large bruise the size of a saucer on my le;;. It is a good bruise because it has lasted me for four months, and to me it's rather valuable. I got in an argument with a gorilla. r -i "J had been track ng through the jungle a wounded buffalo, and my bearers passed on to mo a warning that gorilla were coming. Seeing that wo were beating cautiously through a low tunnel in the undergrowth just high and wide enough to et a man pass, there was nothing to c!o but to let tho gorilhi como on. Testing the Theory " Now the natives in the Cameroons have the fixed belief that if a man stands perfectly still and faces up to these huge bcatrts, standing just under six feet and as wide as a door, he will bo perfectly safe. Several white men I've met apparently believe it too, tho idea being that the gorilla recognises instinctively a superior being and a higher intelligence. He will come up and roar, beat his chest and stamp his feet, but leave.it at that. " Whether I liked it or not, I had no alternative but to give the theory a trial. The gorilla came on. There was hardly room to swing a cat where I was standing, let alone flourish a rifle, so that I dropped on to my knees to get a proper shot at the thing. " Wnat happened I do not know. I suddenly found myself in the incredibly powerful grasp of the roaring ape. He was bent on crushing me to death. Somehow my gun went off. The bullet must have whizzed past the gorilla's ear, or, at any rate, given him such a fright that lie let ne go and did a bolt. That is how I get tho bruise, and I am grateful in a ivay to that ape because he has pro vi led me with my one item of small tails.

"That is the worst of being way from civilisation —vou conin back with no small talk fit for po ite society. I do not know what to talk to people about, and that bruise reminds me of a topio of conversation that tides me over awkward moments. Watching the Girls Go By " Everything is so commonplace to you, but to inej the modern Kip Van Winkle, walking about London, the place is full of marvels. Incredible places these cinemas. Of course I had heard about them and seen the advertisements in the newspapers sent out from home, but these glittering palaces of shining steel fronts—chromium plate, is it?—and extraordinary |>i glittering, fiery letters. Neon signs?. Never heard of them. "I have been to the pictures twice. First one was a romance, fellow kissing a girl all over the screen. It' made me feel ill because —well, hang it, would you kiss your girl in public? Besides, 1 am not interested in romance, but t could not help being fascinated at the thing. It was the realism that upset me, I suppose. " I wanted action —gangsters were more in my lrne. They get a move on and do things." It was a thrill to see the way those fellows dashed about the place firing off machine guns. Anyone can get the job done with a machine gun, but I would like to see how they got on with a rifle in the jungle. " To my eyes there's nothing more fascinating than standing at a street corner and watching the girls go by. None of them locks hard up. The factory girl or workroom hand seems to have gone for ever. It seems hard to believe that all tliese girls work in offices. There was nunc of that when I worked in an underground cellar in St. Paul's Churchyard in a wholesale draper's. Getting Across Trafalgar Square " Another thing that came as an awful shock was 1o see those great aeroplane things suiling over London during the air ecercises. Lindbergh flying the Atlantic Mas a complete fain* tale to me. I had only a vague idea what an aeroplane was like, for the Only thing remotely like it was that queer affair I saw Colonel Cody try to fly at the Alexandra Palace. But tho row they make. How can any man possibly live in them with that terrible racket going on? What keeps them 11 P is as obscure to me as ju ju magic. "The same Providence that kept me safe when charged by elephants op poisoned by snakes piloted me safely across Trafalgar Square. These gigantio buses, controlled goodness knows how, and loaded with people calmly reading their papers or looking serenely out of the window as they whizzed within an inch of the kerb looked to me infinitely more dangerous thau a charging rhino.After all, you can dodge a rhino. " Last Christmas I made a journey of over 100 miles from Mayoss to Batouri to hear a wireless set in the post office there. There was nothing to be heard but an appalling rattling and crackling. The man working it assured me that he could get music and occasionally the chiming of Big Ben. Tho music part could easily be faked with a gramophone—but Big Ben, no, thank » you. No Interest in Politics " I had to coma back to England tri hear the .wireless at all, and it was ai» eerie business. Bit I am getting into the way of it. I keep my mouth from gaping open when something fresh turns up. I try lot to look too interested when a policeman pulls up motor-, ists struggling Jiath their gears and Says, ' What crcr you think you're doing?' These policemen look supermen to me. " With all these Jhings going on, it is hard to fit oneself in. Somehow I can't get interested in politics. When* I buy a newspaper and see somo calanu itv reported, I look at it and think, ' Ah, well, that's all over by now.' It is difficult to get out of the* way of thinking that this thing has happened two months ago." After this interview Mr. Merfield wrote to the Sunday Graphic giving his strangest experience of all. He said: " Yesterday I kissed a girl for the first time for 20 years."