MOMBASSA TO LION LAND 5 
rare Englishwoman, far more admired and petted here 
than she ever is at home, in every sort of dress and 
undress (a renowned English politician on his recent 
visit, made mortal enemies of many of them, in that playful, 
if not always kindly way he seems to have, by admitting 
their good looks, but describing their dressing as 
““dowdy’’) and on every sort of “‘mount’”— pony, mule, 
donkey, bicycle, in ’rickshaw or wagon, motor-car or 
camel cart — pass ceaselessly up and down. 
But you come to see the brown and the black man — 
and nowhere will you find him in greater variety — many 
tribes and races here throng together. 
Arab and Somali traders are here, some of them 
knowing more of inmost Africa than any white man alive. 
Hindu merchants and shopkeepers, among the least honest 
of the earth, Wanyamwazi porters—whose homes are 
in far-away German East Africa; many of them would 
fain change from a German to an English overlordship 
if they could; but the German hand reaches far and 
grips tightly, and they love their distant cattle — and, 
let us hope, their wives, and these the Germans take 
great care of in their absence —and so German natives 
they are fated to remain. 
Then you come across hundreds and hundreds of 
Kikuyus, for this is their country, and all the rich shambas* 
of the neighbourhood, European or native, are tilled by 
them. Most of the natives in the motley throng are on 
pleasure bent. These Kikuyus are not like the rest, 
a casual glance at them is enough to convince you they 
are no idlers. Up and down the streets they trudge 
with their burdens, quite as many women as men. 
They are the moneymakers of this part of the Protectorate. 
There is movement and colour everywhere. Smart 
black women, often with very fine figures, in their most 
*Name for farm. 
