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

322 THINKING BLACK
Nestling at the foot of the Great Range, here it is on
the Lofoi River we cradle the Lufira Valley Mission. But
it seems a cardinal defect of this place is a tendency to be
drowned like a rat. Only the other day we groaned (or
growled?) in the capital as we bought a few drops of
water ; now here is this feast-or-famine Africa giving us
too much. The other night we were all in our first sleep
when the great boom of on-coming torrent broke on the
out-lying hamlets, and then comes a stampede from all
directions to us in the centre. For we are known to be
on the highest spot in the vicinity. There is, however,
such impetuosity in the rush of the dark devastating
waters that it becomes quickly evident we were all far too
low, so the next thing is to rush for the nearest trees and
ant-hills. In this stampede mothers lose sight of husbands
and little ones, and those separated keep up a wild-beast
howling to one another in the pitch dark from their
diflferent perches. No time for looking after mere material
belongings, as in a case of water slowly rising upon
us— nothing heard but that booming coming down
the valley, above which were the shrieks, " Water
Water ! Fly ! Death has come !
" The shrieking soon
subsided into a brave acceptance of this that means
to them so much of desolation, destitution, and death,
for as the waters have already risen waist-deep in
ten minutes, there is no knowing where it will stop.
Shivering round a smoking and flickerless fire of green
wood, there they stand on ant-hills—ant-hills we had
always thought only a blight on the beautiful valley