" I learned that
the man was going to be punished, but as he looked very repentant I
said that I did not wish him punished, so he was allowed to sneak out
of the hut, the people kicking him and saying angry words as he passed.
I supped with the great "Buli" that evening, and we fared sumptuously
on my duck, river oysters and all sorts of native dishes. We were
waited upon by two warriors in full war paint, and the "Buli's" young
and pretty wife, shining with coconut oil all over her body, sat by me
and fanned me. The "Buli" was an aristocratic-looking old fellow with
a large nose and a very haughty look. He is a very important chief,
but knew no English, and we carried on our conversation through the
medium of Masirewa. He spoke in a kind of mumble, with a very thick
voice. Once when he had been mumbling worse than usual there was a
kind of restrained titter from someone in the crowd at the back. The
"Buli" heard it, and slowly turning his head he transfixed the crowd
with his piercing gaze for many seconds amid a dead silence. I wondered
afterwards if anything ever happened to the unfortunate one who was
so easily amused. I learned that besides having an impediment in
his speech, the "Buli" was also paralyzed in one leg.
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