straight up from the forehead and curved in such a way that from a distance they resembled snakes.
Suddenly Butubu stopped the bus. “Look!” he said, pointing toward a tree-shaded area. “There’s a family of hyrax. In Africa we call them dassies.‘”
“Aren’t they cute?” Bess exclaimed. “Are they some kind of rabbit?”
“No,” Butubu replied. “If you will look closely, you will see that they have no tails. People used to think they belonged to the rat family. But scientists made a study of their bodies and say their nearest relatives are the elephants.”
“Hard to believe,” said Burt. “Think of a rabbit-sized elephant!”
The small, dark-brown animals were sunning themselves on an outcropping of rocks. Three babies were hopping about their mother. Butubu explained that they were among the most interesting African animals.
“The babies start walking around within a few minutes of their birth and after the first day they’re on their own. They return to the mother only long enough to be fed, but they start eating greens very quickly.”
Butubu drove on but continued to talk about the dassies. “There is an amusing folk tale about these little animals. It was said that in the days when the earth was first formed and animals were being put on it, the weather was cold and rainy. ”When all the animals were called to a certain spot to be given tails, the dassie did not want to go. As other kinds passed him, he begged them to bring him back a tail.“
Nancy laughed. “But none of them did.”
“That is right,” Butubu answered. “And so to this day they have no tails that they can use to switch flies.”
Everyone in the bus thanked him for relating the charming little legend, then looked out the windows. They were approaching a village of grass-roofed huts. The small homes were built in a semicircle.
The spearmen called out to some of the villagers and men of all ages and women and children came running from the huts. When the visitors were announced, some of the natives hastened back inside.
“They are putting on their ceremonial dress,” Butubu said.
The visitors got out of the bus and were asked to sit on the ground. The meal would soon be served to them. It was not long in arriving and consisted of wildebeest stew and mealies, a sort of coarse cornmeal mush.
Bess looked askance as her bowl was heaped with the steaming stew and the mealies put on top of it. Nancy and George were amused by the expression on her face. For once Bess was not saying, “This looks delicious!”
Nancy was the first one to dip her crude wooden spoon into the food. She announced that it was delicious, although salt-free and rather flat. Everyone was hungry and soon all the bowls were empty. The handsome native children smiled shyly as they served wild grapes for dessert. The fruit was sweet and tasty.
In a few moments several men appeared, drums hanging from their shoulders. They stood in front of the guests, then began swaying left and right as they beat on the instruments. There were several different songs. With some, the men moved forward and backward; with others, they remained in a kneeling posture.
Presently they laid their drums on the ground. They sat down, and beat upon them softly as they began to sing the next song.
Startled, Nancy sat upright. It was the tune she had learned from Madame Lilia Bulawaya! Unconsciously she began to hum it, then sang the words with the men.
When the dance was over, the men stood up. A tribesman, whom Butubu said was the chief, came over to Nancy. He said something to her in Swahili, which Butubu translated.
“We are charmed that you know our song. Please stand up with the dancers and sing it.”
Nancy blushed a deep red. “Oh, I couldn’t. I don’t know it that well,” she protested.
The natives would not take No for an answer. The chief took her hand and raised Nancy from the ground, then escorted her forward to the dancing group.
To herself Nancy
Suddenly Butubu stopped the bus. “Look!” he said, pointing toward a tree-shaded area. “There’s a family of hyrax. In Africa we call them dassies.‘”
“Aren’t they cute?” Bess exclaimed. “Are they some kind of rabbit?”
“No,” Butubu replied. “If you will look closely, you will see that they have no tails. People used to think they belonged to the rat family. But scientists made a study of their bodies and say their nearest relatives are the elephants.”
“Hard to believe,” said Burt. “Think of a rabbit-sized elephant!”
The small, dark-brown animals were sunning themselves on an outcropping of rocks. Three babies were hopping about their mother. Butubu explained that they were among the most interesting African animals.
“The babies start walking around within a few minutes of their birth and after the first day they’re on their own. They return to the mother only long enough to be fed, but they start eating greens very quickly.”
Butubu drove on but continued to talk about the dassies. “There is an amusing folk tale about these little animals. It was said that in the days when the earth was first formed and animals were being put on it, the weather was cold and rainy. ”When all the animals were called to a certain spot to be given tails, the dassie did not want to go. As other kinds passed him, he begged them to bring him back a tail.“
Nancy laughed. “But none of them did.”
“That is right,” Butubu answered. “And so to this day they have no tails that they can use to switch flies.”
Everyone in the bus thanked him for relating the charming little legend, then looked out the windows. They were approaching a village of grass-roofed huts. The small homes were built in a semicircle.
The spearmen called out to some of the villagers and men of all ages and women and children came running from the huts. When the visitors were announced, some of the natives hastened back inside.
“They are putting on their ceremonial dress,” Butubu said.
The visitors got out of the bus and were asked to sit on the ground. The meal would soon be served to them. It was not long in arriving and consisted of wildebeest stew and mealies, a sort of coarse cornmeal mush.
Bess looked askance as her bowl was heaped with the steaming stew and the mealies put on top of it. Nancy and George were amused by the expression on her face. For once Bess was not saying, “This looks delicious!”
Nancy was the first one to dip her crude wooden spoon into the food. She announced that it was delicious, although salt-free and rather flat. Everyone was hungry and soon all the bowls were empty. The handsome native children smiled shyly as they served wild grapes for dessert. The fruit was sweet and tasty.
In a few moments several men appeared, drums hanging from their shoulders. They stood in front of the guests, then began swaying left and right as they beat on the instruments. There were several different songs. With some, the men moved forward and backward; with others, they remained in a kneeling posture.
Presently they laid their drums on the ground. They sat down, and beat upon them softly as they began to sing the next song.
Startled, Nancy sat upright. It was the tune she had learned from Madame Lilia Bulawaya! Unconsciously she began to hum it, then sang the words with the men.
When the dance was over, the men stood up. A tribesman, whom Butubu said was the chief, came over to Nancy. He said something to her in Swahili, which Butubu translated.
“We are charmed that you know our song. Please stand up with the dancers and sing it.”
Nancy blushed a deep red. “Oh, I couldn’t. I don’t know it that well,” she protested.
The natives would not take No for an answer. The chief took her hand and raised Nancy from the ground, then escorted her forward to the dancing group.
To herself Nancy
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