TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 197 
Marching until about eleven, we settled down once 
more, only to be immediately disturbed by a messenger 
from the head-man of the tribe just so gladly parted 
from, who was followed hard on his tracks by a number 
of horsemen, streaming across the plain, threading in 
and out between the clumps of durr grass, the sun 
glinting on their shining spears. 
They very kindly wished to entertain us with a 
species of circus performance, known as the dibaltig, 
a great equestrian feat, carried out in this case by 
some fifty Somalis on typical native ponies got up for 
the occasion — a veritable attempt to make silk purses 
out of sow’s ears — in trappings of red, and many tassels. 
Their riders were dressed in brilliantly dyed tobes of 
green and scarlet and blue, and each man carried a 
complete warrior’s kit of shield, spear, and short sword. 
It was nice that the performance did not wait for us 
to go to it, but placed itself right in our way like this 
— a great improvement on the system of amusements 
at home. Our men gave up all idea of doing any 
camp work for the time, and stood in an admiring 
throng in a half-circle behind Cecily and myself, who 
were allowed a box each to sit on. 
On a prairie-like waste of sand the Somalis formed in 
an even line, and with the usual “ Salaam aleikum,” 
the show began. One of the horsemen advanced 
slightly, and still sitting in his peaked saddle, began 
to sing a long chant. I do not know if he was chosen 
as chorister because of some hereditary right in his 
family, or by favour, or because of the fancied ex- 
cellence of his voice. With every singer not all are 
