A BUSY VILLAGE 



The country between Gama Gar and Gulola 

 village slopes gradually upwards towards the north ; 

 but the rains of the last few days had left pools of 

 water everywhere and made the going very heavy. 

 After an hour's march, however, we reached the village 

 itself, a little cluster of beehive-shaped huts nestling 

 under some large acacia trees. While my orderly 

 was looking for a good place to pitch camp, I sat 

 and watched the scene of great activity that was 

 going on, for some more families had but just arrived 

 and the Sultan himself was expected in the afternoon. 

 All around the cattle were moving about herded by 

 little naked boys, while the women, nearly all with 

 the black cloth denoting marriage tied round their 

 heads, began to build the houses they had brought 

 with them on the gentle, cream-coloured oxen. The 

 men, their white cloths thrown round them, were 

 either standing on one leg, resting on their spears and 

 watching us, or were beginning to cut branches and 

 bushes to make the thorn fence around the village. 

 There were camels too, with little children slung in 

 sacks, and balanced on the other side by tiny lambs 

 or kids, and in between, on the backs of animals, were 

 every kind of household goods to complete the load. 



The sun very luckily came out a little later, so 

 I was able to take an observation for latitude, but 

 almost immediately after it began to rain, and the 

 storm continued all the afternoon, only clearing up 

 again at 4 p.m., when I immediately took further 

 observations for time. 



I had hardly finished when I saw coming down 

 the trail a long line of laden oxen and camels, led by 

 old women and Galla slaves ; and soon, surrounded 

 by a dozen young warriors, a few elders and a priest, 



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