SOMALI BOMAS 



slipping in the mud left by yesterday's rain and 

 cutting his shin to the bone on a piece of wood. He 

 was much scared at the sight of blood flowing rather 

 freely, and wept copiously ; however, I quickly bound 

 up the wound, and, as he was obviously incapable of 

 walking, put him on my mule, and we proceeded on 

 our way. I passed two Somali bomas of about 

 fourteen huts each, in little clearings in the bush, 

 and unloaded at a third. There were several tiny 

 children playing outside the boma, who, on seeing 

 me, fled howling to their mothers. I was soon 

 surrounded by the male population of the village, 

 numbering about fifteen fully-armed men (one with 

 an ugly-looking hatchet), but on walking forward 

 with the interpreter and explaining that I had come 

 merely to shoot and amuse myself, they became quite 

 friendly, putting away their weapons and bringing 

 me milk and ghee. In my turn I gave them some 

 "buni" or Somali coffee, and I further cemented our 

 friendship by presenting several of the youngest boys 

 of the village with small presents. One of them, 

 who could scarcely have been more than a couple 

 of years old, came clinging to his father's leg and 

 seemed perfectly terrified, but I managed to pacify 

 him by giving him a piece of cloth for his mother. 

 Its crude colours seemed to soothe his fears, and, 

 giving me an enchanting smile, he clutched it in his 

 tiny fists and toddled off to the boma to his mother. 



In the afternoon I marched on again towards 

 the north, as the bush, in a westerly direction, was 

 impenetrable. The country alternated between dense 

 jungle and little open plains, but the going was easy, 

 as we were following an old elephant trail. Old spoor 

 of this kind was very common, although just before 



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