Chapter VII: 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