Hamilton was an obscure proverb in the Chie f ’s mother tongue, delivered almost without accent by the newcomer whose mission was to impose dominion over the general’s homeland on behalf of a distant Queen.
I am delighted to be here, said Henry Hamilton. I have done some travelling in Africa but I have never been to this part of the Dark Continent.
My nation welcomes with peace all strangers who come visiting in peace, replied Chief Koko. He waited for the full import of his words to sink in before continuing. Many visitors from your country have told me you don’t have as much sunlight in your land as we do here.
Oh, yes. That is in a period that is very cold, much colder than anything you ever experience here. For a good part of the year the sun almost never comes out, and the weather gets so cold you need a fire to keep yourself warm.
If your people spend so much time in darkness, why do you attribute darkness to this place, where the sun always comes out, rather than to your homeland?
Henry Hamilton frowned. There are many good reasons for that, he said.
Chief Koko shrugged. From my discussions with your white brothers who visited us before you, it is clear that my people and yours see many things in this world with different eyes, he said.
Koko had learned English through his interactions with European merchants but he never spoke it at official functions, so a translator had been made available. Hamilton and Koko chatted on in the Chie f ’s mother tongue, without recourse to the translator. The subjects they avoided were more important than the ones they discussed. Some would later say this duet of omission was tacit acknowledgement from the two men that Berlin had made dialogue redundant long before they met. So Hamilton spoke about his rafting down the Nile, whose delta was a distant sister to the creeks patrolled by Chief Koko’s canoe boys. The consul went ahead to describe his almost successful attempt to scale the heights of the Kilimanjaro, and he spoke about how delighted he was to be the discoverer of a river’s mouth near the mountain.
Were there no people living in the area? Chief Koko asked.
There is a big village in the vicinity. Two natives who knew the mouth guided me there.
The Chie f ’s brows creased.
But how can you say you found the river’s source when others had been there before you?
Henry Hamilton was irritated by the doubts being raised about an achievement that had been gazetted by the Royal Geographical Society. I was honoured for that achievement some months ago in my country, the consul replied.
It will be more interesting to go where nobody has ever been, Chief Koko said. The moon, for instance.
The two men laughed, nervously.
Henry Hamilton had been casting awestruck glances in the direction of Chief Koko’s walking stick. In response to Hamilton’s curiosity, Koko mentioned the names of the creatures etched along the length of the staff. The terrifying distortions wrought on the figures violated every virtue expected of good art in Hamilton’s homeland, so the consul couldn’t understand why he had fallen under the spell of their artistry. Your walking stick is amazing, he gushed.
I am pleased to know that you appreciate its gracefulness, said Chief Koko. The carver who gave me the staff spent many months working on it.
The Chief began describing the habitats and mannerisms of the fauna carved on the staff. When the verbal safari through the delta that he was conducting for Hamilton’s benefit got to the mangrove tiger snarling at the walking stick’s head, the consul asked, Does that animal truly exist?
It is a creature much feared in my kingdom and beyond, Chief Koko replied.
Hamilton, a keen naturalist whose childhood hero was Carl Linnaeus, enquired further, Do you know of anyone who saw one recently?
Why?
As far as we know, tigers don’t exist in Africa, the consul said.
The Chief smiled. You never see it until the instant before you become
I am delighted to be here, said Henry Hamilton. I have done some travelling in Africa but I have never been to this part of the Dark Continent.
My nation welcomes with peace all strangers who come visiting in peace, replied Chief Koko. He waited for the full import of his words to sink in before continuing. Many visitors from your country have told me you don’t have as much sunlight in your land as we do here.
Oh, yes. That is in a period that is very cold, much colder than anything you ever experience here. For a good part of the year the sun almost never comes out, and the weather gets so cold you need a fire to keep yourself warm.
If your people spend so much time in darkness, why do you attribute darkness to this place, where the sun always comes out, rather than to your homeland?
Henry Hamilton frowned. There are many good reasons for that, he said.
Chief Koko shrugged. From my discussions with your white brothers who visited us before you, it is clear that my people and yours see many things in this world with different eyes, he said.
Koko had learned English through his interactions with European merchants but he never spoke it at official functions, so a translator had been made available. Hamilton and Koko chatted on in the Chie f ’s mother tongue, without recourse to the translator. The subjects they avoided were more important than the ones they discussed. Some would later say this duet of omission was tacit acknowledgement from the two men that Berlin had made dialogue redundant long before they met. So Hamilton spoke about his rafting down the Nile, whose delta was a distant sister to the creeks patrolled by Chief Koko’s canoe boys. The consul went ahead to describe his almost successful attempt to scale the heights of the Kilimanjaro, and he spoke about how delighted he was to be the discoverer of a river’s mouth near the mountain.
Were there no people living in the area? Chief Koko asked.
There is a big village in the vicinity. Two natives who knew the mouth guided me there.
The Chie f ’s brows creased.
But how can you say you found the river’s source when others had been there before you?
Henry Hamilton was irritated by the doubts being raised about an achievement that had been gazetted by the Royal Geographical Society. I was honoured for that achievement some months ago in my country, the consul replied.
It will be more interesting to go where nobody has ever been, Chief Koko said. The moon, for instance.
The two men laughed, nervously.
Henry Hamilton had been casting awestruck glances in the direction of Chief Koko’s walking stick. In response to Hamilton’s curiosity, Koko mentioned the names of the creatures etched along the length of the staff. The terrifying distortions wrought on the figures violated every virtue expected of good art in Hamilton’s homeland, so the consul couldn’t understand why he had fallen under the spell of their artistry. Your walking stick is amazing, he gushed.
I am pleased to know that you appreciate its gracefulness, said Chief Koko. The carver who gave me the staff spent many months working on it.
The Chief began describing the habitats and mannerisms of the fauna carved on the staff. When the verbal safari through the delta that he was conducting for Hamilton’s benefit got to the mangrove tiger snarling at the walking stick’s head, the consul asked, Does that animal truly exist?
It is a creature much feared in my kingdom and beyond, Chief Koko replied.
Hamilton, a keen naturalist whose childhood hero was Carl Linnaeus, enquired further, Do you know of anyone who saw one recently?
Why?
As far as we know, tigers don’t exist in Africa, the consul said.
The Chief smiled. You never see it until the instant before you become
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