A PLAGUE OF BEES 
225 
It was most difficult to eat, as the insects crawled into my 
tent, over my meat and into my coffee by the thousand. 
At night we stopped at Muganguno. Here the swarms of 
bees and other insects in my tent became unbearable. 
I was again driven out, could not have a bath, and 
employed my evening picking out the stings and applying 
ammonia, as I snarled to myself : 
Never more, never more, 
Will I be seen on this hateful shore, 
Eaten by ants and stung by bees ; 
Next time I’ll shoot at home, if you please ! 
The next day was destined to be one of the most 
miserable I spent in this most miserable country. From 
the very moment the sun peeped up over the horizon until 
it set at night, an enormous army of bees pestered and 
annoyed me. I could neither eat, drink, sleep, sit, stand, 
nor walk, but the pests must needs crawl over me and 
sting me. It was all very fine to say, ' Don’t touch them, 
and they won’t sting you.’ But the plagues tickled me so 
dreadfully as they crawled up my breeches, down my socks, 
into my shoes, round my head, and over ,my whole body, 
that it was impossible to help brushing them away. I was 
stung almost everywhere. I was driven from my tent into 
a Somali ‘ tent ’ under a tree, and from the tree back again 
to the tent. At length, in despair I sat in the heat of a 
roaring fire. The scorching rays of the sun, the burning 
warmth of the fire, and the poisoning heat of my numerous 
bee-stings, nearly drove me into a frenzy. 
If Somaliland, which certainly ‘ flows with milk and 
honey,’ in any way resembles the Promised Land, I think 
the children of Israel during their wanderings in the 
desert were well out of it. And if the Garden of Eden 
was planted in this country, as some ridiculous person tried 
to make out, I don’t wonder that Adam and Eve fell ! 
Somaliland is about as far removed from a Promised Land 
and a Garden of Eden, in my estimation, as hell is from 
heaven ! 
15 
