164 THE BONDS OF AFRICA 



robes of Peace, but in truth the garments cover 

 the muscled body of War. 



The first time I saw Dar-es-Salaam I did not 

 reaHze that it could take on some of the martial 

 aspects of Aden or Gibraltar. It seemed a 

 South Sea islet on which had been builded a 

 sort of Teutonic Shepherd's Bush Fair. It was 

 all very thorough and all very orderly. The 

 Governor's Residence was palatial, the Hotel 

 Kaiserhof sumptuous, the church magnificent, 

 and the railway station, the seaboard terminus 

 of the M'Rogoro line, admirable. 



Long-robed Swahilis mingled with the khaki - 

 clad soldiery. Huge Germans in white drill 

 suits and beehive helmets drank beer and 

 mopped their brows, for it Avas very, very hot. 

 In the broad, unshaded " Strassen " — if the 

 authorities only would make them narrower and 

 raise up avenues of palms — the stinging sunshine 

 glanced off the white road with a merciless, 

 blinding glare. 



A ricksha took me out to where, on the edge 

 of a spit of land, an aquarium had been built, 

 in which a few crayfish peered stupidly through 

 discoloured water and thick plate-glass. Out- 

 side this little maritime Zoo the foliage was 

 luxuriant and rich. Officials' residences were 

 scattered plentifully throughout the fairy garden 

 — nearly the whole of Dar-es-Salaam is official. 



I wended my way back to the Post Office, cool 

 and spacious, and then to the landing-stage. 

 The sun had given me a splitting headache and 

 my eyes burned with the wicked glare of the 

 streets. 



After a few months in Uganda and British 

 East Africa I returned to Dar-es-Salaam on 

 board the Burgermeister, laden with marines and 



