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

BORING OUT EAST 365
strike Mweru at its South-Western corner, and negotiate
the first trans-Lake voyage in dug-outs.
But here it is a long line of lion incidents occur, the
curious persistency of the thing being like the African's
proverbial rain that never comes but it pours. At any
rate, they seem to be all the fashion, whether biped lions
or quadrupeds, for here is this putrid scoundrel of an
Arab calling himself Shimba = The Lion, and even Chilolo
claims the suffix-surname Ntambo, which also means
" Lion." Certainly the. roaring in name soon became a
roaring in reality. Forewarned of trouble ahead, in the
phrase Ntanda ya kava, " the forest is on fire," we
began by camping early and building a strong skerm, as
war-parties do. That night, however, we drew a blank,
the only incident being a troop of elephants rushing past
at sundown, making a noise like thunder. Plunging into
the fens near by, they bathed for more than an hour, and
with glee seemingly. Nearing Mbovola's village, however,
we find the villagers outside, frantic with excitement, and
bravely roasting a large lioness which had daringly leaped
the fifteen-feet-high stockade and killed a woman ; move
on and into this village, but just as we enter at one side,
down goes the portcullis gate with a smash at the river
entrance, breaking the leap of the large male lion ac-
companied by two little ones, all seemingly bent on
avenging the lioness. Then, day and night, the drums
din their deafening noise, all hope lost of your sleeping up
arrears of the past wakeful nights.
Nor will the villagers let us off the next day, so here