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

382 THINKING BLACK
perfect a pneumatic tube as the cyclist's. So, when
that bare-footed black tiptoes it through the bush,
dodging every suspicion of a jag, how unerringly can
a bike follow where his tender toes have trod ! Thus
the very serpentine shape of that path is its choicest
character, for every twist and turn indicates that
Mr. Negro has dodged a shag or thorn, and how could
a white man afford time to turn back every blade of
grass to discover hidden holes and obstacles ? A parable
all this of our African life—the black man leads, and we
follow. The best place to prove all this is out West,
a mere mile out from any European's " station," for he,
good man, generally scratches a wide road out from his
gate. And long before a break in the trees shows just
the peep of his gable, this pioneer road tells of a white
man ahead. But does your negro use even this new-
fangled clearing with its almost painful Koman straight-
ness of aim ? Oh yes, but only in his own old wriggly
way. There, right in the new road you spy the same
old twisty trail, a path within a path, a circle within a
square ; the African still dictating to the white man,
still utilising him up to a certain point and then throw-
ing him over. Parable, indeed, for is not the negro's
way of walking like his way of working? Plays with
us and our methods, taking just what suits him, rejecting
all the rest.
The 26th of June is our third day of this kind of
thing, and the facts and the philosophy of the situation
alike point to a new enemy attacking us in the honey-