The Dinka Country On The East Bank Would Have Been Of Equal Value, But,
As I Have Already Described, It Has Been Depopulated.
There was an old blind sheik who frequently visited us from the other
side, and this poor old fellow came to an untimely end when returning
one day with his son from marketing at Tewfikeeyah.
I was walking on the
quay, when I heard a great commotion, and I saw a splashing in the
river, the surface of which was covered with the ambatch fragments of a
native canoe. There were many canoes on the river, several of which
immediately went to the assistance of two men who were struggling in the
water. A hippopotamus had wantonly charged the canoe, and seizing it in
his mouth, together with the poor old blind sheik who could not avoid
the danger, crunched the frail boat to pieces, and so crushed and
lacerated the old man that, although he was rescued by his comrades, he
died during the night.
As peace and confidence had been thoroughly established among the
Shillooks, I determined to send for the governor of Fashoda, and to
introduce him personally to the old king, Quat Kare, whom he had
officially reported to be dead. I therefore summoned Quat Kare, and
having informed him of my intention, I sent the steamer to Fashoda
(sixty-five miles), and invited the Koordi to pay me a visit.
When he arrived, I received him beneath the tree which formed my divan,
and after a preliminary pipe and coffee, we proceeded to business. I
told him that he must have been in error when he reported the death of
the old king, as I had proved him to be still alive. He replied that he
did not believe the real Quat Kare was in existence, as he had heard on
the best authority that he was dead. I gave an order to an aide-de-camp,
and in a few minutes the tall and stately figure of the old king was
seen approaching, accompanied by his wives, ministers, and a crowd of
most orderly retainers, including several of his sons. The king sat down
upon a carpet in a dignified manner, without taking the slightest notice
of the Koordi governor. His two wives sat down by him, but his sons
stood with his followers a few yards distant.
The Koordi, who was a remarkably handsome old man, with a snow-white
beard, sat equally unmoved, smoking the long chibook, without apparently
regarding the king or his people. The chibook is a most useful
instrument for a diplomat. If the situation is difficult, he can puff,
puff, puff, and the incorrigible pipe will not draw; in the mean time,
he considers a reply. At length the pipe draws, a cloud of smoke issues
from the mouth. "I beg your pardon," says the embarrassed diplomat,
evidently relieved by the little unreal difficulty with his pipe, "what
were we talking about?" and having considered his reply, he is ready for
argument.
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