Chapter II

Some six months later Gregory, travelling to the extreme limit of his district, found himself within easy distance of the village occupied by the Chieftainess who had been so curious about his house. He felt inclined to go out of his way to see her. When he was resting at midday a native brought him a letter which helped him to make up his mind to do so.

MY FRIEND,

I hear that you have arrived near to my village. Please come and
see my house. I think you will like it. Hoping you are well, with
greetings.

Your faithful friend,

MOVANA.

Written by interpreter Jacob Mazuni. I, too, send greetings.

So Gregory went to see the house.

Outside the village he was met by the usual gathering of elderly headmen, polite and dignified, who led him to the door of their Chief's house.

The house was barnlike, with a high, well-thatched roof.

At the entrance stood the owner. She was very stout and wore a print dress. A red shawl was thrown over her shoulders, and she had a very small straw hat perched on her large, woolly head. Gregory noticed that the hat was very much on one side. Her feet were bare.

After unusually hearty greetings she led the white man into her house.

When Gregory stepped over the threshold he stopped and stood looking from wall to wall aghast. The old black woman interpreted his open mouth to indicate admiration, wonder. This is what he saw.

On a deal table a complete toilet set. Complete to the extent that it included two of those very intimate pieces of domestic furniture seldom seen outside the shops where toilet ware is sold, and surely never before exhibited with pride by the owner. Hanging awkwardly from a nail in the wall, a slop pail of enamelled iron. This was supported on the one side by a dustpan and brush, on the other by a pair of elastic-sided boots. On each side of this remarkable trophy were pinned two very ordinary coloured pocket handkerchiefs.

On a small corner shelf was a large brown earthenware teapot with the words "Advance Australia" done in raised letters. Four enamelled ware egg cups were its companions.

One wall was devoted exclusively to kitchen utensils; new tin kettles predominated, but almost everything was represented.

Opposite this bright array the wall was literally covered with bedding. The centre piece was a mattress; sheets on one side, blankets on the other, pillows above, bolsters below.

But what shocked Gregory more than anything else was a regular trousseau of feminine underclothing, ranged round the door through which he had entered. He blushed hotly and with difficulty suppressed an impulse to bolt without ceremony.

"What do you think of my house, my friend?"

"I think it--er--beautiful, the most wonderful in all the world."

"Yes, I thought you would like it. Do you not like the things my people use? For myself, I like the things the white people use. You put the black man's things in your house. I put the white man's things in my house. We are two friends who have the same thoughts. You buy from the people. I buy from the traders. The traders have promised to bring me many more things. My house is not finished yet. After the rains it will be finished, then you must come and see it again."

* * * * *

When Gregory reached his bungalow after his journey he stripped his walls and packed all his curios in boxes. These he despatched to his father in England, who was very pleased with them.

He replaced his curios by the Hundred Best Pictures, framed suitably in fumed oak.

"LIZIZI."