National Geographic : 1960 Sep
cobra, a deadly thing that can kill, or, from shillings eight feet away, destroy sight. Who had for his pi courage to kill him with a jungle knife? "The c We saw the drilling rig towering higher even "He doe than the mighty, fluted kapok trees. We he lives watched the seismographic crews probing for He's tou the oil strata with small blasts of dynamite. so much We followed the road until it ended in a ringlets, ] savage erosion gully on a hillside. We left "Also the jeep and went on afoot, careful not to him," s, tread on maneuvering columns of army ants. famous At the bottom of this dreadful hill ran a tional Pa swampy stream. A small African boy played Masai la in the water. He smiled, but we had spoiled life by his solitude, and soon he slipped away. cattle (p; "We'll bring the rig through here in a "I brii couple of weeks," Pete said. And they would show the too, and likely the small boy would get a admissio proud job carrying a water bucket, and would animals, wear a tattered undershirt and somebody's ness youi castoff khaki trousers. "But t where, a their cati ACROSS THE CONTINENT in Kenya I was and Tanganyika the "old Masai," as the for myse British settlers call him with mingled admira- "safari." tion and exasperation, wears nobody's trousers, hour's di although he paints stockings on his long legs. a white Around him the safari wagons race about fleet of c and the tourist cameras click, and he could My sz have this new civilization if he wanted it. hadano But he wants none of it, except maybe the racks, H 336 KODACHROMESBY NATIONALGEOGRAPHICPHOTOGRAPHERW. D. VAUGHN© N.G .S . he condescends to accept for posing cture. Ild Masai has it made," a settler said. sn't hunt, he doesn't grow mealies; on the blood and milk of his cattle. gh, and he's independent, and he's a man he dares wear his hair in like a woman." he doesn't believe a thing you tell lid Warden Stephen Ellis, whose 'unfenced zoo," Nairobi Royal Na rk, depends for migratory range upon nd that may soon be denied to wild the ever-increasing herds of tribal age 344). ig their chiefs to the park gates and m the streams of visitors paying their ns. 'Forget the cattle, keep the wild and you can have this kind of busi rselves,' I tell them. they think there's a trick in it some nd I guess one day they'll bring in tle and ruin the park." on safari when I met the Masai lf. East Africa overworks the word It can mean anything from an rive to six months in the bush with hunter, 15 African "boys," and a ross-country safari cars. ifari lay somewhere in between. It versized Land-Rover with empty gun arry Reeves of Arusha, Tanganyika, Living Periscopes Rise Above a Sea of Feathers Highgate Ostrich Farm near Oudtshoorn, South Africa, har vests wing and tail feathers for hats and dusters. Aging birds are killed, their skins turned into handbags and wallets, and their flesh cured into biltong, South African for dried meat. Ostrich chick in hand, an at tendant at Highgate gives a lec ture to some of the farm's ten thousand annual visitors. In a year the bird will look down on its keeper from a height of seven feet. If a cock, he may weigh 300 pounds when fully grown. Frightened ostriches may lie flat, but never bury their heads in the sand. Instead, they sometimes meet trouble head on with a powerful forward kick of feet armed with slash ing three-inch toenails.