I thought it better to keep away from the town, and Buralli and Mahomed, pitying my loneliness, came after dinner and sat with me in front of the bungalow.
"Please tell me one of your stories, Mahomed," I asked.
"Once upon a time," said Mahomed, "a man came to a Somal encampment, and at the entrance met a woman to whom he said: 'I do not talk with women, and am in a conversational mood. Is there ever a man here with whom I can have a chat?'
"'In this encampment,' said the woman, 'is only one man, and he lies asleep inside the tent.'
"'Well, wake him up,' said the man.
"'I am ashamed to wake him,' said the woman.
"'For what reason?' says he.
"'Because his mother is my mother's child and I am his father's wife,' she replied.
"That is my story," said Mahomed, "and sometimes a Somal will sit for two days trying to find out what relation that woman was to the sleeping man."