MASHONALAND 41 



that the M'Swina are cleanly. In many ways 

 true native Mashonaland has much of topsy- 

 turveydom about it. A flowing stream, for 

 instance, is in most parts of Africa, and, for 

 that matter, of the world, deemed in some way 

 an emblem of purity. At any rate one would 

 imbibe of the running water rather than of the 

 stagnant. But in native Mashonaland the wise 

 take their fill from pools and little backwashes. 

 It is a custom among the M'Swina to bury their 

 dead in or by running water, and they pollute 

 the flowing, tumbling rivers with which so much 

 of their country is beautifully and bountifully 

 endowed in various other ways. Wherefore, 

 should you ever wander among the M'Swina, 

 beware of the brooklet. Look for an evil- 

 smelling morass or a puddle, remnant of last 

 season's rains. 



Nowadays I never set eyes on an egg unless 

 my mind wanders back to that memorable journey 

 from Salisbury into the interior. We had eggs 

 for breakfast, for lunch, and for dinner; eggs 

 boiled, eggs fried, eggs cooked in some wonderful 

 manner, known only to Julius, and eggs ome- 

 letted. On one occasion on our journey to Tete 

 we devoured no less than thirty-two eggs between 

 us for dinner, and we felt that we could never 

 look a self-respecting sort of hen in the face again ! 



The day we left the Inyagui L. had that curse 

 of Africa, malaria, rather badly, and he had to 

 struggle along and look with longing eyes for 

 the next camp. At the Tshanoia River we 

 halted during the heat of the day. L. " took it 

 easy," whilst I wandered off to the native village, 

 and surveyed the M'Swina in all their domestic 

 happiness. 



At the back of the kraal a great tortoise- 



