in the rear. Tamboura was certain that the strange things were stools for he had seen such wooden things to sit on in his own village, but he had never seen such large ones with a back to lean against and places to rest one's arms.
While they were all regarding these marvels and chattering among themselves, he saw Ama-jallah enter, flanked by two white men. White men! Yes, he agreed with M'dong that they were white, although one, the younger, was whiter than the other. And, perhaps most remarkable of all, the younger one had hair the color of the sun and it grew long and fine. His white cheeks were tinged with pink, his nostrils small and his lips red and thin instead of dark and thick. They were, Tamboura thought, quite the strangest looking men he had even seen—unreal and ghostly—and he noted that the older man looked sick and unhappy, for his deep-set dark eyes looked around the compound with a lackluster gaze.
Ama-jallah took his place on the decorated seat, the older man on the plain one, and the young man with yellow hair stood between them and behind the table. The slaves with the umbrellas adjusted them so that the three men were in the shade and then the older man spoke to the same slave who wore the funny cloth garment of red with the gold trimmings. He came trotting around the edges of the com-poimd, waking up those who were still sleeping and making everyone get up and stand straight before his shelf. When they were all standing, he started the line marching and it advanced slowly across the hard-packed earth. As they neared the white-painted wooden platform, the first man was told to mount and stand, facing the two seated men.
He was young, and Tamboura remembered seeing him in the canoe ahead of his. He could tell that the fellow was frightened. He was shivering and shaking as he mounted the platform with reluctant steps. Tamboura could not blame him for nobody knew what might happen to the fellow. This might be some strong magic of the white man which would kill. But nothing happened, at least nothing of importance. The black boy stood there and the red-coated Negro pushed his head up against the stripes on the wall behind him, while the seated white man spoke to the young fellow behind him and he did something with a little stick on something white which he held in his hand. Then the
old man spoke to Ama-jallah and the red-coated Negro led the young black over to the two men. He had to get down on his knees in front of the old man, who went all over his body, opening his mouth and putting his fingers inside, pinnin g his hands with careful explorations over arms, shoulders, chest and head. Then, at a word from Red Coat, the boy stood up and the white man called him close to where he was sitting. Again his hands explored the fellow's body, sliding down his thighs, feeling the calves of his legs, even lifting and examining those private parts of a man which no other man should ever touch. However, no harm happened to the fellow and he was dismissed with a nod of the white man's head. Then it was another's turn and another's and still many others' before Tamboura found him--self standing at the foot of the steps that led up to the white platform. He mounted, and although the others had remained there for only the time it took to draw ten breaths, he was kept there longer, standing first on one foot and then on the other, while the three men drank something that was poured out of a brass pot into some strange white cups. He was so near he could hear them talking and he could even understand their strangely accented Hausa words.
"If they're all as good as these first ones, Your Highness, you've brought as fine a lot as usual." It was the old man who was speaking to Ama-jallah.
"I do not bother with old ones, weak ones, sick ones or those who have been scarred in battle or have defects. It does not pay. It's too much work to get them here and it takes as much trouble to bring an old man as a young one."
While they were all regarding these marvels and chattering among themselves, he saw Ama-jallah enter, flanked by two white men. White men! Yes, he agreed with M'dong that they were white, although one, the younger, was whiter than the other. And, perhaps most remarkable of all, the younger one had hair the color of the sun and it grew long and fine. His white cheeks were tinged with pink, his nostrils small and his lips red and thin instead of dark and thick. They were, Tamboura thought, quite the strangest looking men he had even seen—unreal and ghostly—and he noted that the older man looked sick and unhappy, for his deep-set dark eyes looked around the compound with a lackluster gaze.
Ama-jallah took his place on the decorated seat, the older man on the plain one, and the young man with yellow hair stood between them and behind the table. The slaves with the umbrellas adjusted them so that the three men were in the shade and then the older man spoke to the same slave who wore the funny cloth garment of red with the gold trimmings. He came trotting around the edges of the com-poimd, waking up those who were still sleeping and making everyone get up and stand straight before his shelf. When they were all standing, he started the line marching and it advanced slowly across the hard-packed earth. As they neared the white-painted wooden platform, the first man was told to mount and stand, facing the two seated men.
He was young, and Tamboura remembered seeing him in the canoe ahead of his. He could tell that the fellow was frightened. He was shivering and shaking as he mounted the platform with reluctant steps. Tamboura could not blame him for nobody knew what might happen to the fellow. This might be some strong magic of the white man which would kill. But nothing happened, at least nothing of importance. The black boy stood there and the red-coated Negro pushed his head up against the stripes on the wall behind him, while the seated white man spoke to the young fellow behind him and he did something with a little stick on something white which he held in his hand. Then the
old man spoke to Ama-jallah and the red-coated Negro led the young black over to the two men. He had to get down on his knees in front of the old man, who went all over his body, opening his mouth and putting his fingers inside, pinnin g his hands with careful explorations over arms, shoulders, chest and head. Then, at a word from Red Coat, the boy stood up and the white man called him close to where he was sitting. Again his hands explored the fellow's body, sliding down his thighs, feeling the calves of his legs, even lifting and examining those private parts of a man which no other man should ever touch. However, no harm happened to the fellow and he was dismissed with a nod of the white man's head. Then it was another's turn and another's and still many others' before Tamboura found him--self standing at the foot of the steps that led up to the white platform. He mounted, and although the others had remained there for only the time it took to draw ten breaths, he was kept there longer, standing first on one foot and then on the other, while the three men drank something that was poured out of a brass pot into some strange white cups. He was so near he could hear them talking and he could even understand their strangely accented Hausa words.
"If they're all as good as these first ones, Your Highness, you've brought as fine a lot as usual." It was the old man who was speaking to Ama-jallah.
"I do not bother with old ones, weak ones, sick ones or those who have been scarred in battle or have defects. It does not pay. It's too much work to get them here and it takes as much trouble to bring an old man as a young one."
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