198 AFRICA SPEAKS 



down, and the sun glinting on the spears as they 

 twisted and turned, these savage sons of Mars presented 

 a memorable scene of bright colors, frenzied action, 

 and clamorous sound, as they rushed to and fro with 

 a pounding of thousands of feet. During this violent 

 orgy of rhythm, the rolling boom of the drums and the 

 weird chanting of hundreds of voices rose and fell in 

 unison. Many participants worked themselves into 

 a high pitch of excitement, some dancing until they 

 dropped from exhaustion. 



At the height of this barbaric festival, the paramount 

 chief of the Nandi, followed by three retainers, zig- 

 zagged his way toward the camera. His tall, powerful 

 figure was partly hidden beneath many folds of brightly 

 colored cloth. He also wore, as protection against the 

 tropical heat, a pair of spats, a matched set of celluloid 

 cuifs and a Unen collar without a tie. One retainer 

 proudly shaded his chief's head with a shiny new 

 umbrella. He was coming over to inform me that, 

 by common consent of the warriors, they had made 

 the mane of the first hon speared into a ceremonial 

 headdress and wished to present it to me as a token of 

 friendship. I greatly appreciated this display of 

 regard on their part, knowing as I did that it repre- 

 sented a real sacrifice to the man who had speared the 

 lion, for no greater honor could ever be his than to 

 wear this selfsame headdress as a badge of courage 

 and manhood. 



It was a savage and colorful show, but I was glad 

 when I could leave, for I had been feehng badly all 

 morning and shortly after the dance commenced was 

 shaken with chills. We were close to the equator 

 where it was fairly warm, but even after putting on 



