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

ONE He
for Mushidi !
CHAPTER XV
Red Sunsets
TjyHEREAl the reader is sad, for
the adjective is found to enter
the superlative degree—blacky blacker^
blackest,
(7th December.)
tells me that he has never
yet suffered living sacrifices in the capital here,
whereas all around every little H.K.H. Nobody
cannot be buried without them. These terrible tales
*'red sunsets," they are called—are hardly tellable, for
here it is we reach the part of this diary that should
really be written in red ink. The sun (i.e. the Chief) is
sinking, and he must sink in red—a real scarlet sunset,
and no mistake. It is quite certain that every poor
chieflet demands his regal right to drag down with
him to the nether world at least one or two splendid
specimens of the human kind. Mpaki is the dread
technical term for this institution, and these are mostly
women-folk, the demand being that the living sacri-
fice must have no blemish. No wonder when an
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