NORTH-EASTERN RHODESIA 97 



wondering on his age. But N'Tanta, of course, 

 had no fitting sense of his antiquity. He could 

 remember when on both banks of the Luangwa 

 great herds of buffalo roamed in such numbers 

 that the " dambos," or little open clearings in 

 the bush, were black with them. That was 

 before the " great sickness " (rinderpest) came 

 over the land and decimated the herds. He 

 could remember, too, a white man — the first 

 he had ever seen — who had stayed for a while 

 under the very tree which now afforded me 

 shade. That was a long, long time ago, but he 

 remembered the sojourn of the weary traveller 

 well. The white man's attendants loved him, 

 and said that he had come into this world to 

 break the yoke of the slave raiders. N'Tanta 

 had heard that this man had afterwards died 

 near the great lake which lay several days west 

 of his village, and that his heart had been buried 

 there, while his body had been carried to the 

 coast. But N'Tanta could remember events 

 which took place long before the rinderpest 

 swept over the country, long before David 

 Livingstone had written his name in great letters 

 of noble achievement over the heart of his 

 beloved Africa. Back in the recesses of N'Tanta's 

 memory were visions of the coming of a terrible 

 tribe of people over the crests of the far-away 

 Muchingas, and the old man shook his head as 

 he spoke of their cruel raids and bloody con- 

 quests. As the sun began to sink over the 

 western forest land he hobbled off to his newly- 

 thatched hut, and throughout the shadows of 

 dusk I watched him contentedly sitting in front 

 of his inglorious home, still shaking his head and 

 ejaculating to himself over the eventful memories 

 of the past. 



