352 AFRICA SPEAKS 



Engrossed with such thoughts as these, I strolled 

 down to my dark-room tent at the edge of the forest. 

 As I stood at its entrance in the darkness, a husband 

 and wife crawled out from beneath their shelter of 

 leaves. He ignited a torch of dry banana stalk at the 

 little fire, and bearing the blazing brand on high, while 

 she carried a small water jar, they strode past me on 

 the trail that leads to nowhere. 



Slowly they walked down the path, the burning 

 torch dimly lighting the way, shadows flickering as the 

 firebrand threw grotesque shapes against the dark 

 trees. As they grew dim in the distance, I shouted 

 them a farewell, but they did not hear. Soon the fight 

 blinked out. My pygmy friends were gone, engulfed 

 in the silent jungle, tiny shadows in a primal wilderness. 



