The Bafut Beagles

wah! Dat beef fierce too much! When e done smell de smoke e de hollar an e de hollar, time no dere. My dog dey de fear an dey all done run. I de fear bushcat go catch me an I done run also. Small time I hear de beef e hollar an hollar, an so I done go softly softly for look um. Wah! Masa, dat beef e run run for inside catchnet, an de catchnet done hold um fine. When I see um for catchnet I no get fear again, an so I done go an tie e foot with rope, an I done bring um one time for Masa.

The man ended his story and stood watching us anxiously, twisting his short spear in both hands.

My friend, I told him, I tink you be fine hunter man, an I go pay you good money for dis beef.

na so, na so, agreed the Fon, waving a lordly hand, dis man done make fine hunting for you.

I paid him a handsome sum of money, and made him a present of several packets of cigarettes, and he went off grinning and ejaculating, Tank you, Masa, tank you, all the way down the steps and along the road until he was out of earshot. Then I turned to the Fon, who was sitting back watching me with a smug expression on his face.

My friend, I tank you too much for dis ting you done do, I said.

The Fon waved his hands deprecatingly.

no, no, my friend, na small ting dis. It no be good ting if you go leave Bafut and you never get all de beef you want. I sorry too much you do go leave. But, when you look dis fine beef you go tink of Bafut, no be so ?

na true, I said, and now, my friend, you go drink with me?

foine, foine, said the Fon.

As if to compensate for the dreariness of the early part of the day, the sunset was one of the finest I have ever seen. The sun sank down behind a grid of pale, elongated clouds, and as it sank, the clouds turned from white to pearly pink, and then flushed to crimson edged with gold. The sky itself was washed with the palest of blues and greens, smudged here and there with a touch of gold, with pale, trembling stars gaining strength as the wojjd darkened. Presently the moon came up, changing to yellow and then silver as she rose, turning the world a frosty silver, with shadows as black as ct

We sat drinking in the misty moonlight until it was late. Then he turned to me, pointing towards his villa.

I tink sometime you like to dance, he said, so I done tell um to make musica. You like we go dance before you leave, eh?

Yes, I like to dance, I said.

The Fon lurched to his feet, and, leaning perilously over the veranda rail, he shouted an order to someone waiting below. In a short time a cluster of lights moved across the great courtyard, and the Fon's all-female band assembled in the road below and started to play. Soon they were joined by numerous others, including most of the council members. The Fon listened to the music for a bit, waving his hands and smiling, and then he got up and held out his hand to me.

 Come! he said, we go dance, eh ?

 Foine, foine I mimicked him, and he crowed with glee.

We made our way across the moon-misty veranda to the head of the steps; the Fon draped a long arm over my shoulders, partly out of affection and partly for support, and we started to descend. Half-way down, my companion stopped to execute a short dance to the music. His foot got tangled up in his impressive robes, and, but for his firm grip round my neck he would have rolled down the steps into the road. As it was, we struggled there for a moment, swaying violently, as we tried to regain our balance; the crowd of wives, offspring, and councillors gave a great gasp of horror and consternation at the sight of their lord in such peril, and the band stopped playing.

Musica, musical roared the Fon, as we reeled together on the steps; why you done stop, eh?

The band started up again, we regained our equilibrium and walked down the rest of the way without mishap. The Fon was in fine fettle, and he insisted on holding my hand and dancing across the courtyard, splashing through the puddles, while the band trotted behind, playing a trifle short-windedly. When we reached the dancing-hut he sat down on his throne for a rest, while his court took the floor. Presently, when there was a slight lull in the dancing, I asked the Fon if he would call the band over, so that I could examine the instruments more closely. They trooped over and stood in front of the dais on which we sat, while I tried each instrument in turn and was shown the correct way of playing it. To everyone's surprise, including my own, I succeeded in playing the first few bars ofThe Campbells are Coming on a bamboo flute. The Fon was so delighted with this that he made me repeat it several times while he accompanied me on a big drum, and one of the council members on the strange foghorn-like instrument. The effect was not altogether musical, but we rendered it with great verve and feeling. Then we had to repeat it all over again, so that the Fon could hear how it sounded with a full band accompaniment. Actually, it sounded rather good, as most of my flat notes were drowned by the drums.