This has nothing to do with the chapter, but before we leave Africa, I wanted to show you this map I found. I found it at this site http://sciencefun.wordpress.com/page/12/, but it was imported there.
Hope you smile.
“At that time, it came to pas that the old men of the neighborhood resolved to hold a Ngoma for me.”
“The [the old female Natives] did not, like the old beauties of the European ballroom strive to obtain a youthful appearance, the whole point and weight of the dance, to them theselves, and to the onlookers, lay in the old age of the perfomers.”
“I had not before known my heart to heave up in such a storm against the things happening to me.”
“The old women took a keen intrest in everything that was going on on the farm, and would wald ten miles to look at an Ngoma of the young people; a joke, or a cup of tembu, would make their wrinkled toothless faces dissolve in laughter. This strength, and love of life in them, to me seemed not only highly respectable, but glorious and bewithcing.”
“I rememberred what an old Norwegian captain of a whaler down in Durban had explained to me, that the Norwegians are undismayed in any storm, but their nervous system cannot stand a calm.”
p. 392: Askari – from Wikipedia. Askari is an Arabic, Bosnian, Urdu, Turkish, Somali, Persian, Amharic and Swahili word meaning “soldier” (Arabic: عسكري ‘askarī). It was normally used to describe local troops in East Africa, Northeast Africa, and Central Africa serving in the armies of European colonial powers. The designation can however also describe police, gendarmerie and security guards
p.393: “. . .the little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me.” – from King Lear by Shakespeare Act 3, Scene 6. http://nfs.sparknotes.com/lear/page_180.html
And so the book that began with “I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills,. . .” closes with this thought.
From there, to the South-West, I saw the Ngong Hills. The noble wave of the mountain rose above the surrounding, flat land, all air-blue. But it was so far away that the four peaks looked trifling, hardly distinguishable, and different from the way they looked from the farm. The outline of the mountain was slowly smoothed and levelled out by the hand of distance.
Her farewell to her farm, was a permanent farewell in that Karen Blixen never again visited Africa. However, she gave the world a peek into the delights of Africa in her memoir, “Out of Africa.” So her “farewell”, was our “hello” or “jambo”.
Thanks for reading with me,
P.S. There is a quizz coming up, and of course a prize. Stay tuned.