SEFARI LIFE 145 
The rains were over early, that year, the grass was rich and 
long, and the ticks were there in strength. I had John 
pick me clean, three and four times a day; took hot baths, 
with Condy’s fluid in them, used every means I knew to 
ward them off, and reduce the fever of the bite. But I had 
a most uncomfortable time, and lost much sleep. 
After the grass is burned, or when the country is thor- 
oughly dry, ticks are not so bad. But my advice is: don’t 
go down into the Athi River country till the grass fires are 
over. A friend of mine came back to Nairobi and lay in 
hospital there for months, as the result of taking up work 
on the Athi during the rains. 
One of the pleasures of sefari life, as I have found it, 
is getting to know the men. It takes time, but nothing pays 
better in the long run. I have never found any men, any- 
where, quicker to appreciate a little personal interest, 
than are these black companions of our pleasures and dan- 
gers. Easily contented are they, and surely very patient, 
under circumstances no white man would endure. In little 
clubs they tent together, five to seven in number; covered, 
in rain and shine, by a tiny Americani* tent, of the value 
| of seven rupees. 
The tent lets the heat in, and though it is sure to be 
cunningly pitched, will not, for very long, withstand the 
torrential rain. Stretch it, trench it as you may, an African 
torrent shower, floods its floor. Most of these black folk 
have fever in their bones, and a soaking night, when the 
rain is cold, will often bring a large number down with it. 
When the white man has malaria, he stays in his warm, 
dry tent, wrapped in warm blankets, and carefully supplied 
with warm drinks he brings on perspiration, then quinine, 
| etc., etc., while all the sefari waits anxiously on his recovery. 
* The cotton cloth used everywhere in East Africa is made in the United States. Hence its 
) Dame Americani. 
= —— 
