“Interpret, Big Shoes,” I said. “Interpret accurately.”
“He here says, sir, that he has heard that one of your wives, he said women, has killed a lion and that he wonders if in your tribe the killing of lions is left to the women.”
“Tell the great chief whom I have never met that in my tribe we sometimes leave the killing of lions to women as in his tribe he leaves to the young warriors the drinking of Golden Jeep sherry. There are young warriors who spend their time drinking and have never killed a lion.”
The Interpreter was sweating hard at this moment and things were not getting better. The Masai, who was a good-looking old man of possibly my own age or possibly older, spoke and the Interpreter said, “He here says, sir, that if you had wished to be polite and to talk as one chief to another you would have learned his language so that you and he could talk together as man to man.”
It was over now and cheap enough so I said, “Say to this chief who I have not known until now that I am ashamed not to have learned his language properly. It has been my duty to hunt lions. The wife I have brought here has the duty to hunt lions. She has killed yesterday and there are two more bottles of cold beer here which I was reserving for my people but I will drink one of them with this chief and with him only and Mr. Singh will provide wine for all other chiefs.”
The Interpreter said this and the Masai came forward and shook hands. I buttoned the strap on the holster and patted the gun back against my thigh where it belonged.
“An Orange Crush for the Interpreter,” I said to Mr. Singh.
The Interpreter took it but the Masai who had wanted trouble spoke to him earnestly and confidentially. The Interpreter took one swallow of his soft drink to clear his throat and said to me, “This chief here asks in absolute confidence how much you paid for this wife who kills lions. He says that such a wife for breeding could be as valuable as a great bull.”
“Tell the chief, who I see is a man of great intelligence, that I paid two small airplanes and one larger airplane and one hundred head of cattle for this wife.”
The Masai elder and I drank together and then he spoke to me again rapidly and seriously. “He says that is a great price to pay for any wife and no woman could be worth that. He said you spoke of cattle. Were they cows or were there bulls too?”
I explained that the ndege were not new aircraft but had been used in war. The cattle I said were all cows.
The old Masai said this was more understandable but no woman could be worth that much money.
I agreed that it was a high price but that the wife had been worth it. Now, I said, it was necessary for me to return to the camp. I ordered another round of the wine and left the big beer bottle with the elder. We had drunk from glasses and I set my glass top down on the counter. He urged me to take another glass and I poured one half full and drained it. We shook hands and I smelled the leather and smoke and dried dung and sweat smell that is not unpleasant and I went out into the sharp light of the road with the hunting car half shaded by the leaves. Mr. Singh had five cases of beer in the back of the car and his boy brought out the last cold bottle wrapped in a newspaper. He had figured the beer and the bottle of wine for the Masai on a pad of paper and I paid him and gave the Interpreter a five-shilling note.
“I would prefer employment, sir.”
“I cannot give you employment except as an interpreter. This has been given and paid for.”
“I would like to come with you as an interpreter.”
“Would you interpret between me and the animals?”
“I could learn, sir. I speak Swahili, Masai, Chagga and of course English as you see.”
“Do you speak Kamba?”
“No, sir.”
“We speak Kamba.”
“I could learn it easily, sir. I could tutor you to speak proper Swahili and you could teach me hunting and the language of animals. Do not be prejudiced against me because I am a Christian. It was my parents who sent me to the Mission School.”
“Did you not like the Mission School? Remember God is listening. He hears your every word.”
“No, sir. I hated the Mission School. I am a Christian through instruction and ignorance.”
“We will take you out hunting sometime. But you will have to come barefoot and in shorts.”
“I hate my shoes, sir. I must wear them because of Bwana McCrea. If it were reported to him that I was without my shoes or that I had been with you in Mr. Singh’s I would be punished. Even if I had only drunk Coca-Cola. Coca-Cola is the first step Bwana McCrea says.”
“We will take you to hunt sometime. But you are not from a hunting tribe. What good will it do? You will be frightened and you will be unhappy.”
“Sir, if you keep me in your mind I will prove myself to you. With this five shillings I will make a down payment on a spear at Benji’s store. I will walk at night without the shoes to toughen my feet as those of a hunter’s are. If you ask me for a proof I will make a proof.”
“You are a good boy but I do not wish to interfere with your religion and I have nothing to offer you.”
“I will make you a proof,” he said.
“Kwisha,” I said. Then to Mthuka, “Kwenda na duka.”
In the duka it was very crowded with Masai shopping and watching others who were buying. The women stared at you boldly from head to foot and the young warriors with their heavy ochered pigtails and bangs were insolent and cheerful. Masai smell good and the women have cold hands and when their hand is in yours they never remove it but delight in the warmth of your palm and explore it happily without movement. Benji’s was a cheerful busy place like an Indian trading post at home on a Saturday afternoon or a monthly payoff day. Keiti had found good posho and all the Coca-Cola and soft drinks that were needed for the Ngoma and he was ordering a few unnecessary items from high shelves so that he could watch the lovely and intelligent Indian girl, who was in love with G.C. from a great distance and who we all admired and would have been in love with if it were not useless, reaching them down and bringing them to him. This was the first time that I had seen how Keiti loved to watch this girl and I was happy that it gave us a faint advantage over him. She spoke to me in her lovely voice and asked about Miss Mary and said how happy she was about the lion and while I took great pleasure in seeing her and hearing her voice and in our shaking hands I could not help seeing how far gone Keiti was. It was only then I noticed how smart and fresh and well pressed his clothes were and that he was wearing his best safari uniform and his good turban.
The people from the duka aided by Mthuka started taking the sacks of meal and the cases of soft drinks out and I paid the bill and bought a half dozen whistles for the Ngoma. Then, since the duka was shorthanded, I went out to guard the rifle while Keiti helped with the cases. I would have been glad to help with the loading but it was not considered seemly. When we were alone hunting we always worked together but in town and in public it would have been misunderstood so I sat in the front seat with the rifle between my legs and heard the petitions of the Masai who wanted to ride down the Mountain with us. The Chevrolet truck chassis on which the hunting car body had been built had good brakes but with the load we had we could not carry more than about six extra people. I had seen days of a dozen or more. But it was too dangerous on the curves, which sometimes made the Masai women sick. We never carried warriors down the Mountain road although we often picked them up coming up. At first there had been some bitterness about this but now it was an accepted practice and men we had carried up would explain it to the others.