Thinking black; 22 years without a break in the long grass of Central ...

222 THINKING BLACK
day when negro festivities reach their zenith and even
deep-dyed enemies agree to sink their grudge and run
with the full tide of good cheer. The Lunda man who,
otherwise and elsewhere, would avoid his Luban enemy as
though he were a pestilence, is to-day in high glee feast-
ing on the common bounty. Thousands and thousands
of slaves are here drinking themselves tipsy, the very
drink being the famous ** barley wine" of Xenophon and
Tacitus. With all the sympathies and animosities of
cats and dogs, here you have them for one brief day
deceiving each other into a false fraternity as frothy as
their gallons of beer.
Twisting into the capital since daybreak, and from
all points of the compass, you might have seen the beer
caravans arrive, drums roaring, goats and sheep piping
a shrill treble to swell the noise of festivity. Every rag
of coloured calico is to-day sported in the sunshine, the
essential bit of the rig-out being a turban of some sort.
Meanwhile the great Mushidi, who is bent on besting his
imaginary rival, is in the hands of his satraps, who are
dressing him up for the show, the distinctive feature of
his purple and fine linen being a vesture, twenty or
thirty yards long, to which they finally add his regalia
of "Omande" shells. Certainly he takes the shine oiit
of everybody, for hanging round his neck, like a walk-
ing Christmas tree, they have dangled scissors, looking-
glasses, and curious sundries.
But where, you ask, is the victorious general all the
while ? Denied entry, he, be it noted, has been hanging