134 UNDER THE AFRICAN SUN 



is an albino-negro. He is a perfect negro as shown by his 

 features, his woolly hair, and by the formation of his skull ; but 

 his skin is white. This w^hite colour is unlike a European's, 

 because all Europeans, men and women, are bound to tan more 

 or less in Africa. This poor albino presents a pitiable object of 

 neglect. As dirt shows more readily on his white skin, he always 

 looks dirty compared to his black playfellows. The glare of the 

 sun hurts his sensitive albino-eyes, and has caused his keeping 

 the right eye habitually closed and his blinking with the left eye. 

 This photophobia has produced the habitual effort of twisting 

 the face, so as to mitigate the pain which the rays of light cause, 

 when they strike his unprotected iris ; and in this way his mouth 

 has been pulled awTy, and his features have assumed an un- 

 pleasant and unhappy expression. When I examined his eyes 

 the last time I was at Kampala, they looked decidedly more grey 

 to what I noticed four years ago. 



Kampala has two Christian Prime ]\Iinisters (the one a Pro- 

 testant, the other a Roman Catholic) and three Christian Bishops 

 (the one a Protestant, the two others Roman Catholics). With 

 this storage of power and of evangelising force, one would imagine 

 that Kampala must be a sort of " New Jerusalem," a city of 

 saints. But there is not another place I know, either in Uganda 

 or in the East African Protectorate, where " so many thieves 

 break through and steal." On my very first arrival at Kampala 

 I had an illustration of this fact. The captain, then in command 

 of the fort, on ushering us into the mess-room, wanted to refer 

 to the clock. " Well, I'm blest," he exclaimed, *' they've stolen 

 the clock ! " The clock, it appears, usually stood on the side- 

 board. As he went on chatting with the greatest equanimity 

 about other matters, and took the theft with such perfect com- 

 posure, 1 thought it was simply a joke, especially as my com- 

 panion, the major, laughed very heartily. When our host had 

 left the room, I found that it was not a joke, but real earnest. I 

 thereupon expressed to my companion my admiration for a man 

 who could take loss and annoyance with such gentlemanly forti- 

 tude, as it was impossible to replace the clock without writing to 

 England for another to be sent out, and this could not possibly 

 reach Kampala under eight months. My companion explained 

 how it was, that the captain took it so coolly. "One usually 

 takes another man's misfortunes with heroic indifference," he 

 said ; " the clock does not belong to the captain at all, but to the 



