Gerald Durrell - The Overloaded Ark

The Watchnight uttered a wild cry, seized a banana and rushed forward to try and tempt him back. George paused and watched his approach. He let him get within a foot or so of his trailing leash, then he ran forward, bit the poor man in the calf of the leg, and fled down the path towards the village, leaving the Watchnight standing on one leg and screaming. On reaching the village George was surprised to see so many people gathered round a Tilly lamp. Just as he arrived the ‘band’ struck up, and the crowd broke into the shuffling, swaying dance that was the favourite at Eshobi at that time. George watched them for a moment, astonished, and then decided that this was a very superior game which had been arranged for his special benefit. Uttering a loud scream he rushed into the circle of dancers, his trailing rope tripping several couples up, and then he proceeded to leap and scream in the centre of the circle, occasionally making a rush at a passing dancer. Then he overturned the Tilly lamp which promptly went out. Scared of the dark and the pandemonium his sudden appearance had caused, he rushed to the nearest person and clung to his legs, screaming with all his might.

Eventually the lamp was relit, George was chastised and seated on my knee, where he behaved very well, taking sips out of my glass when I wasn’t looking, and watching the dancers with an absorbed expression. The dancers, keeping a wary eye on him, once more formed a circle. Presently I called for a small drum and, putting George on the ground, I gave the instrument to him. He had been watching the band with great attention and knew just what to do. He squatted there showing his great canines in a huge grin of delight, beating the drum with all his might. Unfortunately his sense of rhythm was not as good as the other drummers’ and his erratic playing threw the dancers into confusion once again, so I was forced to take the drum away from him and send him off to bed, protesting loudly all the way.

George attended one other dance, and this was by special request. Two days before I left Eshobi to go and join John at Bakebe, the chief arrived to say that the village was throwing a dance as a sort of farewell party for me. They would be very glad if I would attend, and could I bring the monkey that played the drum as a friend of the chief’s was coming to the dance and he was very anxious to see this feat performed by a monkey. I promised that both George and I would be there. The Tilly lamps were polished and lit, and both transported down to the village half an hour before my arrival. When I arrived, clad in my dressing-gown and pyjamas, George walking sedately beside me on his leash, we were greeted with much handclapping and cries of “welcome”. I was surprised to see such a large crowd, all dressed in their very best clothes, which ranged from a boy clad in a very fetching two-piece costume made out of old flour sacks with the name of the brand printed in large blue letters across his posterior, to the council and chief who were dressed in their brightest ceremonial robes. Elias I hardly recognized: he was to be the Master of Ceremonies, and had dressed himself to kill: plimsoles on his great feet, a bright green shirt, and brown pin-striped trousers. He had an enormous watch-chain on the end of which was a huge whistle which he kept blowing frantically to restore order. The band was the largest yet: three drums, two flutes, and a triangle.

As soon as my table and chair had been set up, and I had shaken hands with the council members and the chief, and exchanged a few complimentary words, Elias sallied into the middle of the street, and stood between the Tilly lamps blowing the whistle for silence. Then he spoke:

“All you people savvay na dis last dance we get Masa. So all you people go dance fine, show Masa what kind of fine dance we make for Eshobi, you hear?”

A roar of delight came from the crowd, and they surged forward to form a circle. Elias stood in the centre of the circle, signalled the band, and they were off. Elias danced round and round inside of the circle, wagging his bottom and roaring instructions to the dancers:

“Advance . . . meet and waltz . . . right turn . . . let we set . . . all move . . . back we set again. . . . Advance . . . right turn . . . meet and waltz . . . conduct for yourself . . . back we set. . . . Advance . . . .” and so on. The dancers bobbed and shuffled round to his directions, arms, legs, bodies, eyes, all dancing, their shadows thrown large and grotesque by the lamps, sliding and interweaving on the red earth. The drums thumped and stuttered in a complicated rhythm, and the flutes bound it together with their thin cries. On and on went the dance, faster and faster, the dancers’ faces gleaming in the lamplight, their eyes glazed, their bodies twisting and their feet stamping until the earth shook. The watchers clapped and swayed, and occasionally ejaculated an appreciative “eh . . . aehh!” as some young blood executed a particularly complicated step. At length, through sheer exhaustion, the band stopped and the dance was at an end. Everyone sat down and the buzz of conversation filled the air.

Presently, after three or four more dances, Elias approached leading a detestable youth called Samuel by the hand. Samuel was a most objectionable young man, a product of a Mission School education which made him speak in that stilted style of English which I detested. However, he was the only one in the village that could speak proper English, Elias explained, and he was to act as interpreter, for the chief council member was about to make a speech. The chief council member rose to his feet on the other side of the street, drew his lovely pale pink robes closer about him, and commenced to speak loudly, volubly, and rapidly in Banyangi. Samuel had taken a place by his side and listened carefully. At the end of each sentence he would rush across the street, translate into English for me, and then rush back to catch the next sentence. At first the council member would wait for Samuel to return before starting the next sentence, but as the speech progressed he got carried away by his own flow of words, and poor Samuel was kept dashing to and fro at some speed. The night was warm and Samuel unused to such exercise; his white shirt was soon grey with sweat. The speech, as translated to me, went something like this:

“People of Eshobi! You all know why we are here to-night . . . to say good-bye to the master who has been with us for so long. Never in the whole history of Eshobi have we had such a master . . . money has flowed as freely from him as water in the river-bed. [As it was a dry season and most of the rivers a mere trickle, I felt this was hardly complimentary.] Those who had the power went to bush and caught beef, for which they were paid handsomely. Those who were weak, the women and children, could obtain salt and money by bringing grasshoppers and white ants. We, the elders of the village, would like the master to settle down here: we would give him land, and build him a fine house. But he must go back to his own country with the beef that we of Eshobi have got for him. We can only hope that he tells the people of his country how we of Eshobi tried to help him, and to hope that, on his next tour, he will come back here and stay even longer.”

This speech was followed by prolonged cheers, under cover of which Samuel was helped away by a friend. I then rose and thanked them for their kindness, and promised that I would come back if I could, for I had grown very fond of Eshobi and all the inhabitants. This, indeed, was quite true. I spoke in my very best pidgin, and apologized for not being able to speak in their own language. Tumultuous cheers followed, aided and abetted by George, who yelled his applause loudly. Then the band struck up again, George was given a drum and proceeded to play it with great dash and vigour to the amazement and delight of the visiting tribesman. It was very late when I led George, yawning prodigiously on the end of his leash, back to the camp. The dance went on until dawn flamed in the sky.