MOMBASA. 77 



It not only means that you are not working, 

 but also that you have no earthly desire to work. 



About this time one of the hotel boys brought 

 the inevitable chota-hazri the tea and biscuits 

 of early morning. For this once it was very 

 welcome. 



Our hotel proved to be on the direct line of 

 freighting. There are no horses or draught ani- 

 mals in Mombasa ; the fly is too deadly. There- 

 fore all hauling is done by hand. The tiny tracks 

 of the unique street car system run everywhere 

 any one would wish to go ; branching off even into 

 private grounds and to the very front doors of 

 bungalows situated far out of town. Each resident 

 owns his own street car, just as elsewhere a man 

 has his own carriage. There are, of course, 

 public cars also, each with its pair of boys to push 

 it; and also a number of rather decrepit rickshaws. 

 As a natural corollary to the passenger traffic, the 

 freighting also is handled by the blacks on large 

 flat trucks with short guiding poles. These men 

 are quite naked save for a small loin cloth ; are 

 beautifully shaped ; and glisten all over with 

 perspiration shining in the sun. So fine is the 

 texture of their skins, the softness of their colour 

 so rippling the play of muscles that this shining 

 perspiration is tike a beautiful polish. They rush 



