Samedou Kieta sat up in bed with a child's primer open before him.
"M--A," he spelled. Then, after an incredibly long time of patient
puzzling, "M--A--MA. Oui, MA. Y a bon!" and embraced the whole ward in
one wide white grin before turning to the next syllable, "M--A--N." Once
more the puzzled frown on the black face, once more the whispered hints
from neighbouring beds, once more the triumph of perseverance,
"M--A--N--MAN!" He was just enjoying his success and chanting his
pidgin-French paean of happiness, "Y a bon! Y a bon!" when Soeur
Antoinette paused by his bed. "Tres bien, Sidi," she said, "mais il faut
les mettre ensemble," and with her white finger she guided his black one
back to the first syllable.
Here was difficulty indeed! He knew all right that M--A--N was MAN, but
what was M--A? And when, after intense effort, he re-discovered that
M--A spelled MA, it was only to find that he had forgotten what M--A--N
spelled. At last the other wounded could contain themselves no longer,
and the ward was filled with laughing shouts of "Maman!" in which
Samedou joined most happily.
Presently the English nurse passed the negro's bed, and he at once
turned to another branch of learning. "Good morning," he said, and, when
she smiled back a greeting to him, he added, "T'ank you," and looked
proudly round him at his fellow-patients as who should say, "See how we
understand one another, she and I!"
During a sojourn of many months in the hospital Samedou invariably met
the sufferings he was called upon to endure with an uncomplaining
fortitude, which might have seemed due to insensibility had not the
staff had ample proof that his silence was the silence of a fine
courage. On one occasion a set of photographs of the hospital was in
preparation, and when the _salle de pansements_ had to be taken the
photographer decided that the best lay figure for his _mise-en-scene_
would be a black man, as a striking contrast to the white raiment of the
staff. So Samedou was carried in on a stretcher and laid upon the table.
Unfortunately the surgeons and nurses were so occupied with the business
of placing things in the best light that no one realised that the poor
Senegalese did not understand the purpose of the preparations, and when
the English nurse was called to take up her position she noticed the
hands of Samedou Kieta clutching the sides of the table and his black
eyes rolling in a sea of white.
She at once ran to the nearest ward. "Quelqu'un voudrait bien me preter
une photographie?" she asked, and a dozen eager hands offered her the
treasured groups of _la famille_. Taking one at random she returned to
Samedou and held it before his eyes. "Nous aussi," she said, "toi, moi,
le Major, l'infirmier."
Samedou looked, and a heavenly relief chased the tension from his face.
"Y a bon," he said happily. "Toi, bon camarade!"
When his wounds began to be less painful the problem was how to keep the
Sidi in bed. No one cared to be very severe with him, so the staff
resorted to the usual weak method of confiscating all his clothes save a
shirt, and hoping for the best. But one day the English nurse, going
unexpectedly into a distant ward, came upon Samedou Kieta, simply
dressed in a single shirt and a bandage, visiting the freshly-arrived
wounded and scattering wide grins around him. At her horrified
exclamation he began to shrivel away towards the door, ushering himself
out with the propitiatory words, "Good morning. Good night. T'ank you.
Water!" A most effectual method of disarming reproof.
Poor Samedou has since passed on to another hospital for electric
treatment, but the staff still treasures his first and only letter:--
"Moi, Samedou Kieta, arrive a l'autre hopital. Y a bon. Mais moi,
Samedou Kieta, toi pas oublie. Merci, Monsieur le Major deux
galons. Merci, Soeur Antoinette. Merci, Madame l'Anglaise. Y a bon.
Y a bon. Y a bon."
* * * * *
"The Germans have suffered 100,000 casualties in 10 days on the
western front, and their losses will increase rapidly. They must
shorten their lives wherever possible in order to save
men."--_Ceylon Morning Leader._
In this laudable endeavour they may count upon receiving the hearty
assistance of the Allies.
* * * * *
"Young gentleman (21), good family, strong, healthy, public school,
O.T.C., Varsity education, speaks English, French, Spanish
perfectly, engineering training, efficient car driver and mechanic,
horseman, is open to any sporting job connected with war; willing
undertake any risks; no salary, but expenses paid."
If the advertiser will apply to the nearest recruiting-station he will
hear of something that will just suit him.
* * * * *
"The inhabitants of the Peak district are in a state of great alarm
at the invasion of a great part of their beautiful country by what
some of them describe as a plague of locusts, and yesterday
considerable numbers of people visited the district where the hosts
are still advancing. Many from Sheffield and Manchester alighted at
Chinley, Edale, and Hope, among them some eminent etymologists,
anxious to be of assistance in ridding the country of a serious
menace to the field and garden crops."--_Yorkshire Paper_.
It is understood that the etymologists are chiefly concerned for
the roots.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE NATION DEMANDS.]
MR. PUNCH (_to the PRIME MINISTER_). "IF YOU _MUST_ HAVE DIRTY LINEN
WASHED IN PUBLIC DURING THE WAR, FOR GOD'S SAKE, SIR, WASH IT CLEAN."
* * * * *
[Illustration]
_Civilian model (posing for latest war picture)_. "MUS' SAY I'LL BE GLAD
WHEN PEACE IS DECLARED. THIS CLEARING HUNS OUT OF TRENCHES IS FAIR
TELLIN' ON ME."
* * * * *