While On Our Journey North-West, A Cheery Old Woman, Who Had Once
Been Beautiful, But Whose White Hair Now Contrasted Strongly With Her
Dark Complexion, Was Working Briskly In Her Garden As We Passed.
She
seemed to enjoy a hale, hearty old age.
She saluted us with what
elsewhere would be called a good address; and, evidently conscious
that she deserved the epithet, "dark but comely," answered each of us
with a frank "Yes, my child." Another motherly-looking woman,
sitting by a well, began the conversation by "You are going to visit
Muazi, and you have come from afar, have you not?" But in general
women never speak to strangers unless spoken to, so anything said by
them attracts attention. Muazi once presented us with a basket of
corn. On hinting that we had no wife to grind our corn, his buxom
spouse struck in with roguish glee, and said, "I will grind it for
you; and leave Muazi, to accompany and cook for you in the land of
the setting sun." As a rule the women are modest and retiring in
their demeanour, and, without being oppressed with toil, show a great
deal of industry. The crops need about eight months' attention.
Then when the harvest is home, much labour is required to convert it
into food as porridge, or beer. The corn is pounded in a large
wooden mortar, like the ancient Egyptian one, with a pestle six feet
long and about four inches thick. The pounding is performed by two
or even three women at one mortar.
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