THE STRANGE VILLAGE OF KIYA BE 377 



Two days later, I paid a visit to this man and found 

 him much improved. In very good English he told 

 me of joining two other white men who were seeking 

 wild-animal pictures. One of them was an ex-officer 

 of the former Kaiser, who had fled Germany after the 

 World War and here sought an outlet for his adven- 

 turous spirit, and the other was a young German 

 photographer. They had entered the bush from near 

 the village of Kabo, intending to explore the country 

 between the River Ko and the Bahr Sara, where they 

 hoped to find the rare giant eland. 



When this work had been completed, they planned 

 to make their way by native dugout canoes down the 

 Bahr Sara to its junction with the Chari, and then, 

 entering the Bahr Salamat a short distance to the north, 

 pole their way upstream to the kraal of Ke, and from 

 there trek overland to the strange village of Kiya Be. 



Things had progressed well enough until fever took 

 charge; then the young photographer died, and after 

 his burial the two remaining members had quarreled 

 and separated, the Frenchman making his way toward 

 Fort Archambault. En route he went down with a 

 bad attack of fever, spending several days at an 

 unmarked village until the cliief built the litter and 

 sent some of his men with him to the post. 



I asked him about this singular place of Kiya Be 

 and what he knew of its queer inhabitants. He had 

 talked to a French officer who led a detachment of 

 Senegalese troops to the village some years past in an 

 attempt to enforce the French proliibition against the 

 horrible disfigurement practiced by the Sara Kyabe 

 women. He described them as resembhng broad- 

 biUed ducks, having lips as large as dinner plates. 



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