Soldiering and Sport in Uganda 



down the slope, towards the centre of the town, I 

 could see the old Boma House, where I had stayed 

 on the occasion of my last visit. Over my head 

 the usual flock of golden-crested cranes flew heavily 

 past, uttering their mournful, haunting cries, as if 

 saying good-bye for ever. 



Yet I had disliked the place at first intensely, 

 and now, although there was hardly any definite, 

 visible thing to attract me, I was seized with a vague 

 disinclination to depart. 



I looked round at the pretty stoep of the house 

 beyond mine, with its curling creepers and beautiful 

 flowers opening their sleepy eyes to the rising sun, 

 and transforming the most uninteresting thing in the 

 world, an empty house, into a vision of loveliness. 

 I thought of its numerous previous occupiers, and 

 where were they all now ? Few of them, indeed, left 

 behind in this country of come and go. I found 

 myself unconsciously delaying over all I did to put 

 off the moment for starting. I visited each room on 

 the excuse of making sure that my boys left nothing 

 behind, although I well knew they were much more 

 likely to have packed up the Government furniture 

 as well as my own. Then, snatching my helmet, I 

 jumped on my bicycle, wishing an inward and 

 muttered farewell to all around, and rode out of my 

 compound with feverish speed. Some distance out 

 of the place I found myself slowing down, and I 

 felt quaintly that I had to get off just for one last 

 silent look, and then the wrench was over. I do 

 not suppose I shall ever again revisit the place, 



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