LAUGHTER MAKES FRIENDS AND FOES
The Emir, the chief of all the Fulani of the Western Plain, was not
pleased with the way things were going in Yelwa, his capital city.
But on a Friday he seldom was pleased. For, on his way to the mosque
on the Mohammedan day of prayer it was the custom for people to stop
him and to present petitions. Also, and it was this that annoyed him
most, it was tradition that he should grant many of these requests for
pardon of criminals, and that he should give alms on a large scale.
Both went against the grain, but especially the pardoning of criminals.
To sentence a man earlier in the week only to release him on a Friday,
seemed waste of time. Lately he had taken to giving sentences of
flogging, which could be all done and finished by the time the day of
pardons came around. Another solution had been to give sentence of
double the punishment he intended and then remit half.
As he thought, a grim smile twisted one corner of his mouth. Amid the
plaudits of the richly robed court he paused for the purification
before entering the mosque.
During the ceremony a gathering cloud grew and blackened on the hard
face of the aristocratic old Fulani. Not only the Ladan, in his call to
prayer, but the Liman--the Leader in Prayer--had deviated intentionally
from the traditional ritual. With his anger was mixed anxiety. These
religious men must feel they had strong backing so daringly to flout
the orthodoxy of which he and his great ancestors had been such staunch
upholders!
The rows of white-robed worshipers made their final prayer, their
final prostration, and began to file out by the narrow doorway, out
of the dim coolness into the blinding heat of the sunlight. For a few
moments they stood, gathering up their staves and ablution bottles
while they gossiped. The Emir leaned heavily upon the shoulders of two
followers while a third placed the richly ornamented sandals on his
soft, almost ladylike feet. The Leader in Prayer, the Liman, was making
his salutations, and the Court Praiser had struck up “Great is the Son
of....”
Garram at full speed rounded the corner. He tried to dodge the group at
the mosque door, but his speed was too great. He slipped, recovered,
throwing up a cloud of dust from the dry ground, slipped again, and
with bony elbows, hard head, harder ax, throwing stick and bow,
crashed full into the Leader of Prayer!
That gentleman had stooped to put on his sandals. The impact sent him
spinning backward. To preserve his balance he grasped the Ladan and for
a brief moment they tottered forward and back as if indulging in an
undignified comic dance. An agony of suspense was on their faces. Then,
force of gravity having its way, stiff legged, feet stretched out in
front, gently they sat down side by side.
Garram would have resumed his flight, but guards seized him, and people
looked toward the Emir, expecting a brief, angry order. In vain they
waited.
The Emir was bent almost double--at first they thought in pain. Then
they saw that the hook-nosed, hawk-like face was twisted in honest
mirth. Twice he pointed a finger at the two astonished elders who were
sitting on the ground, arms round each other like loving twins. Twice
he tried to speak. Cruel the African native may be, but he loves a
joke. From one after another of the crowd snorts of laughter were
heard, then the whole group, old and young, were chuckling and hooting
with glee.
It was perhaps unfortunate for the trader that it was at this juncture
he rounded the corner in pursuit: sometimes hopping, sometimes running,
as his trousers permitted, and snorting his indignation, his baggy
garments slipping, being caught, and slipping again as he stumbled
along. To complete the situation the trousers slipped once too often
and too far. The big man rocked once in his stride, then, thudding at
the feet of the Emir he came down in a cloud of dust. Hands at his
side, still grasping at the refractory pantaloons, feet behind him and
mouth wide open and gasping, he looked for all the world like a large
fish, just landed.
Surprise at this second apparition had momentarily checked the
laughter. At this climax it started again like one choking sob. The
Emir, all dignity swept away, leaned crumpled up against the wall of
the mosque, making strange hooting noises.
The guard needed no order to make them release their hold on Garram.
The feeling of the Emir and the people was too obvious to need putting
into words. Garram, too wise to draw attention to himself by bolting
again, sat down to await developments. Kon, tail wagging in applause,
was quite willing to wait, apparently hoping that someone would do some
more funny tricks.
The Leader in Prayer and the Ladan gathered themselves together,
shaking the sand and dust from their robes. Bitterly the Liman
reproached his innocent subordinate, whom he seemed to blame for his
humiliation. Muttering curses beneath his breath which he dared not say
aloud he turned a baleful glance upon the unconscious Emir.
“Allah will requite!” he stalked off muttering. “Allah will avenge the
wrong done to his servant!”
Goshi, the stout trader, rose from before the Emir and made more proper
obeisance. “Pardon, O Great One! Pardon thy servant!”
The usual frown had returned to the face of the Emir, and the trader
trembled.
“Be not so impetuous the next time you hasten to pay your respects.”
Goshi strove to stammer forth explanations, but the chief cut him short
with a wave of the hand. “But if your quarry is not in fact a thief,
caught in the act, you shall forgive him. Then will I forgive you.”
Then turning to the guard the Emir raised his voice so that the
courtiers and assembled multitude might also hear. “This boy is sent of
Allah to reprove presumptuous Holy Men. And well has he done it! See
that he, aye, and even his dog, if so large a thing can be a dog, are
well lodged and fed in the palace.”
The ever growing crowd let loose a burst of applause far different from
the usual acclamation. In the train of the Emir, Garram strove to talk
to a genial giant of a guard in sign language. Kon followed, his tail
broadcasting unmistakable opinion that this was a cheery city to live
in.
THE EMIR’S COURT
[Illustration]