AFRICAN INTERLUDE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22628, 16 January 1937, Page 15 (Supplement)

AFRICAN INTERLUDE

WHILE the sukarabali was pulling on his riding boots, Fielding spoke a few words in Swahili to the house boy, standing dignified and impassive in the doorway of the hut. Outside, sprawling beside their loads on the hot sand, the native bearers waited. It was time for the ulendo to start. In his bachelor clays John Fielding had always enjoyed these trips, but now, when it meant leaving his wile behind, it was a different matter. During their eighteen months of married life she had accompanied him once or twice, but it was doubtful if she had enjoyed the experience. This time, vixen he had to pass through the sleeping sickness belt, it was quite out of the question to take her. But it was terrible. to leave her behind. Better not let her see that he was worried, though. He began to whistle nonchalantly. " You seem very cheerful, Jack. Was there, perhaps, a shade of resentment in the tone? "Why, not? Fine day; fine trip; good results, I hope. And, if all goes veil, I'll be back again before you've had time to miss me, eh Grace!'" He looked up at her with a smile and thought, as he had marty times before how utterly English she looked in her exotic surroundings —slim, fair-haired, blue-eved, with natural roses in her cheeks" like those on the hedgerows of her native Devon. How long would they bloom on the torrid shore of Lake ' Tanganyika ? For Grace, he had discovered, was not of the type that readily adopts the " customs of the country." Now she was trying to make . a little bit of England out of a group of native huts and a tangle of tropical ' ilowers. She was fighting Africa and Africa was too strong. "What were you saying to All." Her voice was low and musical, but there was just now an unevenness in it as though she were trying to suppress some kind of emotion. " I was telling him to take care of you while I am away." " I don't want to be taken care of 1 by a negro," said Grace stiffly. And then suddenly the English poise, the English calmness seemed to fail her. " Sometimes I feel as though the sight of him and of Suvi would make Hie scream." He made a'gesture and the two black servants disappeared. " If only you knew it. those two are far better and more faithful servants ihan any you could get in England. And another thing—you must get out cf the way of lumping them all together. Mt is an insult to Ali. He is really a Mohammedan gentleman—using the word in its true sense—with far finer instincts than many a white man 1 have known. " I know there are lots of things you iclon'.t like here," he added ruefully. ■" But listen —if I do well on this trip, and I hope to pull off that big contract, I will build you a real English house. How will that please you? Though I like these huts," he added a little wistfully.

Grace's eyes lit up with interest and he quickly followed up with: "Now you .will be jierfectlv safo and well jooked after while I'm away and there is that big parcel of English books and inusic just arrived to amuse you." He acljled as an after thought, " And 1 /suppose Forrest will call." " I suppose so," said his wife. Jack was silent for a moment. Then he remarked: " I wish our only neighbour was a different sort of chap. Somehow I can't cotton to him. although I suppose all right in his way. And he can talk, play the piano, sing. He'll entertain you." Grace said -nothing. " Well, sweetheart. Time to say good-bye." He looked deep into her eyes. "In just a week I'll be hack again." He gave her a studiedly unemotional kiss, a quick hand pressure, find then turned away, as though lie *ere just going to the end of the garden. Grace walked into the hut she called her drawing room. It was dim and cool, simply and restfullv furnished in soft green and grey. There was an open pianoj flowers, hooks. She had made it as English as she could, but, try as she would, she could not keep Africa •° u t. And then, instead of a trim white Maid in rap and apron, there was Ali. Aji made Grace feel uncomfortable. He moved about so noiselessly; often lie *ould be close behind her without her knowing, and make her start. He projessed not to speak English, but she jjad an idea that lie understood it. that he knew everything that passed between her and Jack, although his dark lat ' e with the Arabian cast of features never gave any sign. She had picked up a few words of Swahili from Jack, who B poke it iluently, but it was seldom necessary for her to use them. She freely over had to give Ali an order, oe knew just what to do and did it Perfectly. His efficiency deprived her "tirely of household occupation. A cool breeze sprang up as the sun . ent down. It was possible to take an Merest in |j[ e once more. Grace 1 ou Sht of the solitary meal ahead of er \rith aversion. If only someone °uld come to dinner! But there was 0 one to come except Forrest. Footfin V lll Sal,( l made 110 sound, and it not until he was actually 01 v e rar tdali that she knew that For had come. Their neighbour, but

only a temporary one, an engineer, engaged on a survey for tho government ; his camp was a couple of miles awav.

It was almost dark on the verandah and Grace could see little of Forrest except his big outlines as lie replied to her greeting and sank down in a chair beside her.

" Well, Mrs. Fielding, I have come to see how you are bearing your grass widowhood." His accent was difficult to place —not English, yet not definitely foreign. Before she could reply Ali appeared with a lamp and drinks. " Ah." laughed Forrest. " The perfect butler!"

Grace's languor gave way to animation. She had passeil such a long, boring day, she was genuinely glad to see Forrest.

She thought: " Jack does not like him; 1 don't know why. But Jack doesn't mind him entertaining me. Jack is not. jealous." " You will stay for dinner, won't you?" she said to Forrest. " Thanks. 1 shall be charmed." " Dinner for two, Ali." Ali salaamed and withdrew. " 1 am so glad you came," she exclaimed impulsively. " It has been a terrible day." The big man smiled sympathetically. His full-lipped mouth was partly hidden under a black moustache. His eyes were large, dark and expressive. Dinner was perfectly cooked and perfectly served. Ali who had been standing like an ebony statue behind her, left the coom for a moment and Grace said:

" I often wonder what the natives are thinking about us white people." " They're not thinking anything," said Forrest scornfully. " They don't think." " .Jack says they do."

" That's a matter of opinion, of course," he said diplomatically. " I look on them just as part of the furniture or the landscape. Necessary nuisances when there's work to be done, but one must stand no nonsense. The worse you treat them, the more they think of you."

During a silence the shrilling: of the insects outside became distinctly audible, and to the lure of the lamp came Muttering, buzzing and zooming, all the winged creatures of an African night. A praying mantis alighted on the table near Grace. She drew back startled. Forrest made an attempt to crush the insect, but before he could do this Ali, who had returned to the room, deftly and gently caught it and restored it to liberty outside. " Jack says the natives have some queer superstition about those insects," said Grace. " They would not kill one for the world, nor let anyone kill one." " I'm going to kill one if I want to," said Forrest. " And I will, if it annoys you." " Oh, well, never mind. It's gone, now," said Grace, relieved that it had. But the mantis, unable to resist the attraction of the light, came back to its fate. With a swish of his table napkin, Forrest knocked it to the floor and put his foot on it. Grace drew her breath in sharply. She had caught sight of Ali's face, for one single moment without its usual impassive mask, and the concentrated anger and hatred she saw there made her shiver. Just a part of the furniture, Ali? Was he? Grace was glad to leave the table and go into the drawing room. After a silence Forrest said, " I want to sing you a little song." He ran his fingers softly over the keys. He could draw the most entrancing sound's even from a tropics-warped piano, and -he had a way of singing directly to a listener which made his song something intensely personal. It was so now. Grace was stirred and troubled. She felt as though she had received a passionate declaration to which she was expected to make a reply. But as though to save her that embarrassment, almost in the next moment he was taking liis leave, holding her hand, saying, "Ibis has been a wonderful evening. May 1 come again

to-morrow. And may I borrow this?" This was a book of poems. Forrest, when he reached his camp, shut the same moonlight out, tossed Grace's book of poems into a corner and sat idly turning the pages of an old copy of the Vie l'arisienne. The following day Ali, for the first time, demonstrated that lie was not merely a piece of smoothly working domestic machinery. When Grace informed liirn that Forrest would again he a guest for dinner, she could not help noticing that he signified silent disapproval. This was intolerable. She repeated her order. Then Ali pleaded the insufficiency of the larder, murmuring the Suahili equivalent of the Chinese, " -No can do." This, Grace knew, was absurd. " Can do." she said very firmly, and walked away. This little clash with Ali strained nerves already taut, and by the end of another day of intense heat and loneliness Grace was almost desperate for the company of one who spoke her own language and who, with music and poetry, with talk of this and that, could charm away the hours. Also there was a thrill in knowing that Forrest found her beautiful and charming. When she stepped out on to the verandah and the moonlight illumined her face, Forrest said in a low, tense tone: " f wonder if you know how beautiful you are:' If 1 had to go away 1 think I would shut vou up." "Oh!"

Visions of barred windows, ebony slave girls flitted through G r ace's brain. To be jealously guarded—that was love. Was it? Suddenly came the thought, " -Men like Jack do not shut up their wives; they trust them."

And unguarded, was she? Not quite. There was a movement in the shadows of the palms—Ali, perhaps, on vigil, wondering why her visitor stayed so late. A Mohammedan, he had no doubt strict notions about women, and disapproved entirely of a wife receiving a male visitor in her husband's absence. But natives did not think! Or did they? " Good-night," said Grace hurriedly. " Good-night." Another day of stark heat. " Uh!" She gave a sudden shriek. It was silly—Jack always hated her to do it —but she could not help it when those black creatures appeared so unexpectedly. A strange native was standing there with a note. From Forrest. iJ Will you dine with me to-night," it said. " Do not say no. I will send a machila and bearers and I will come to escort you."

Something to do. Grace was thrilled. She had been to Forrest's camp before with Jack. She felt slightly nervous about telling Ali that she would not be home for dinner, but he merely salaamed as though it were the most ord in a r.v occurrence. She dressed herself with care and was sitting on the verandah ready when Forrest arrived with two bearers and a machila. Toward the end of the meal she was aware of movement and a babbling of voices outside.

" A little entertainment I have arranged for you," he said. " A native danee."

in a clearing outside the hut, by the light of torches, a number of natives were assembled. A space had been left for the two white people, and Forrest had deck chairs brought. The drums began to beat evenly, monotonously, like the beating of one's heart. Grace sat in a hammock slung between the posts in front of the hut. Then suddenly the tempo changed Not with the pulse beats now, hut against them. And then the wild-looking Zanzibari girls began to dance. It was exciting beyond measure, with the tropic darkness and the palm trees like a blanket of mystery 011 every side. A muttered exclamation from Forrest broke the spell. He left her swiftly, strode into the shadows, spoke angrily to someone there. There was a commotion, the sound of blows. The dance stopped. Grace, who had risen in dismay. could not see what was happening for the crowding natives all buzzing like bees. Presently Forrest returned, flushed, triumphant. " That skunk, Ali," he explained, " spying 011 us, but I have given him a lesson."

" Oh." said Grace, terrified. " Ho might kill you." " Not lie," laughed Forrest. " I made him crawl. He is my nigger now. That is the way with them. Show them that you are master. The same with women." IL had slipped out. And Grace, a clergyman's daughter, daintily nurtured, delicately bred, looked at him for one moment just as one of his slave women might have looked in a harem of Zanzibar.

Grace spoilt the greater part of tho next day in her room. She disliked the thought of meeting Ali, but that