Your faithful friend,
Movana.
Written by interpreter Jacob Mazuni. I, too, send greetings.
So Gregory went to see the house.
Outside the village he was met by the usual gathering of elderly headmen, polite and dignified, who led him to the door of their Chief's house.
The house was barnlike, with a high, well-thatched roof.
At the entrance stood the owner. She was very stout and wore a print dress. A red shawl was thrown over her shoulders, and she had a very small straw hat perched on her large, woolly head. Gregory noticed that the hat was very much on one side. Her feet were bare.
After unusually hearty greetings she led the white man into her house.
When Gregory stepped over the threshold he stopped and stood looking from wall to wall aghast. The old black woman interpreted his open mouth to indicate admiration, wonder. This is what he saw.
On a deal table a complete toilet set. Complete to the extent that it included two of those very intimate pieces of domestic furniture seldom seen outside the shops where toilet ware is sold, and surely never before exhibited with pride by the owner. Hanging awkwardly from a nail in the wall, a slop pail of enamelled iron. This was supported on the one side by a dustpan and brush, on the other by a pair of elastic-sided boots. On each side of this remarkable trophy were pinned two very ordinary coloured pocket handkerchiefs.