But if my wanderings far afield have taught me anything, it is that we each of us have in our own keeping a very precious possession that either brightens or slurs our environment. I refer to individual character, which is, after all, since units make the mass, the source that shall always decide the nature and ideals of society. Hence, be circumstances what they may, the individual character has it in its power to be a significant force in the universe; so long as it is strong, and of sterling worthiness.
Wherefore, may it not be that the restlessness and dissatisfaction of modern life is in a minority of characters that are weak and lacking in manliness, and from that source are forthcoming the extremists whose insane attacks on all things as they exist destroy the confidence and tranquillity upon which all true progress flourishes?
There is no denying that there is a mean spirit abroad at the present time, a bad patch of inferior material, as it were; but I cannot believe it is anything more serious than that. And therein lies my faith that the simple meaning of civilisation shall one day be recovered, so that men may turn to their dictionaries again, and comprehend when they read that to civilise is:
“To reclaim from barbarism; to instruct in arts and refinements.”
My chief concern, however, in approaching this subject is to enter on some strange outside impressions of our country, come by in a curious way, in the hope that they may help to show that dissatisfaction with one’s lot is not always justified, and that it is usually possible to find others in circumstances worse than one’s own.
I thought I knew what was meant by poverty before I went to the Sahara (for my life had not been an easy one), but the Great Desert and its people taught me otherwise. Wherefore, when the sudden transition came and I left behind that land of primitive people and ancient customs to regain the heart of civilisation, it was an experience that keyed up the senses to acute receptiveness and tremendous appreciation. Everything was a luxury; everything accepted with thankfulness, and one quarter of the most humble of the comforts that came my way would have filled me with equal content.
So may it be when the mind of man has learned humbleness from a background of desert that holds nothing.
But, if the sudden change of environment was full of incident in my case, it can be readily conceived that Ali’s and Sakari’s first view of civilisation was even more exciting, and filled them with astonishment and wonder.
The lifelong background, to them, was primitive Africa. Previous to joining the caravan they had both lived for many years in Kano, the great Hausa trade centre of Northern Nigeria, and one of the most remarkable native cities in the world. An environment of humble, low, mud-walled huts and narrow sandy lanes had always been theirs, and heat and flies and a dense population, with meagre sufficiency of food, their intimate atmosphere. To them luxury was unknown, and, not knowing it, they were happy. Indeed, Kano is a town of laughter, and its people healthy and content amid a humbleness and simplicity that is as yet unspoiled, and natural to them.
