THE CALL OF AFRICA.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17190, 6 November 1923, Page 6

THE CALL OF AFRICA.

THROBBING OF THE DRUM. Far up a tropic river in Portuguese East Africa, where crocodiles sprawl on brown rnudlbanks and hippos wallow in the reeds, J heard for the first time the mysterious call of Africa, -writes L. G. Green, in the London “ Daily Ai ail.” It was hot under the awning in the motor boat. For hours we sped upstream, watching the grey monkeys that scampered over and around the tangled bush on cither side. Then dead slow, round a quick turn in tho river, and we saw iu native village on the bank. That scene stands out clear from a medley of sunlit impressions. Golden huts there were, with bamboo roofs gleaming in the sun-blaze; j natives who looked like shining copper j * statutes as they stood motionless, star- ; ! ing at the intruders; and over all— | | seven lonely palms. No stunted trees i these, but green feathery topped giants j rearing upwards from a cluster of j reeds; majestic splashes of green! agaidst against an azure sky. We landed, walked inland to where j i a thick palm-grove f off bred shade, and j : ate our lunch. Soon afterwards we j hoard the tom-tom. Only those who have heard this wierd drumming in the dim distance of an African forest will fully understand the thrill that it produces. Clearly it came, three distinct staccato notes, an undeniable coll that seemed to symbolise in barbaric music the whole of the mysterious, awesome continent we call Africa—a. call that is as old os time, music that has swayed tho passions of men right down the We rosb, silently, to answer tho summons of the unknown. It came from far away, much farther thun we had imagined. Wandering first into the palm-grove maze, we burst suddenly into a clearing and' found native huts and native people. Square mats, covered with white and yellow maize, baked in the sun. And the oldest woman in Africa, wrinkled and toothless, emerged from a dark doorway to salaam' Children with wondering eyes forgot in their surprise the common pot of dried iidi round ■which thov sat. A long walk through the semi-gloom of tho forest and the drum beats came louder. Xow there was a sustained note, almost, liquid in tone, produced I‘iom the drum by an art unknown in Europe. At last wo found the drummer. a in both hands. So fast he beat, so quickly he swung his arms, that Ins bark was a mass of quivering muscle. Wo gaped as he worked up to a crescendo of sound—then silence. The spell was broken. A\e turned away and wept back to the sluggish river and the launch-