| text: |
By five o'clock that afternoon Namkia was in the village and fighting drunk, and I was praying he would stay there. The cook's strained nerves had snapped, and he had given a loud scream at some minor irritation and slapped Paodekumba. He had had enough of the cook, slapped him back, left him weeping, dismissed himself from my service, and doubled off up the village to get drunk with Namkia. There was not a soul left in the place except the cook, who, sniffing miserably, served my dinner. When darkness fell, I left him to any hysterics he cared to have, barred myself into the basha, and made a New Year resolution to celebrate all future Hgangis whatsoever in civilization. |
