Also they are exceedingly likely to degenerate unless ruled with
a firm hand and a wise head. Very rarely are they dishonest as respects
the possessions of their own masters. They understand their work
perfectly, and the best of them get the equivalent of from eight to ten
dollars a month. Every white individual has one or more of them; even
the tiny children with their ridiculous little sun helmets are followed
everywhere by a tall, solemn, white-robed black. Their powers of
divination approach the uncanny. About the time you begin to think of
wanting something, and are making a first helpless survey of a boyless
landscape, your own servant suddenly, mysteriously, and unobtrusively
appears from nowhere. Where he keeps himself, where he feeds himself,
where he sleeps you do not know. These beautifully clean, trim,
dignified people are always a pleasant feature in the varied picture.
The Somalis are a clan by themselves. A few of them condescend to
domestic service, but the most prefer the free life of traders, horse
dealers, gunbearers, camel drivers, labour go-betweens, and similar
guerrilla occupations. They are handsome, dashing, proud, treacherous,
courageous, likeable, untrustworthy. They career around on their high,
short-stirruped saddles; they saunter indolently in small groups; they
hang about the hotel hoping for a dicker of some kind. There is nothing
of the savage about them, but much of the true barbarism, with the
barbarian's pride, treachery, and love of colour.
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