“It is a sore thing to die,” resumes Gul Mohammed.
“Hoo! Hoo!” exclaims the other, “it is bad, very bad, never to wear a nice cloth, no longer to dwell with one’s wife and children, not to eat and drink, snuff, and smoke tobacco. Hoo! Hoo! it is bad, very bad!”
“But we shall eat,” rejoins the Moslem, “the flesh of birds, mountains of meat, and delicate roasts, and drink sugared water, and whatever we hunger for.”
The African’s mind is disturbed by this tissue of contradictions. He considers birds somewhat low feeding, roasts he adores, he contrasts mountains of meat with his poor half-pound in pot, he would sell himself for sugar; but again he hears nothing of tobacco; still he takes the trouble to ask
“Where, O my brother?”
“There,” exclaims Gul Mohammed, pointing to the skies.
This is a “chokepear” to Muzungu Mbaya. The distance is great, and he can scarcely believe that his interlocutor has visited the firmament to see the provision; he therefore ventures upon the query,
“And hast thou been there, O my brother?”
“Astaghfar ullah (I beg pardon of Allah)!” ejaculates Gul Mohammed, half angry, half amused. “What a mshenzi (pagan) this is! No, my brother, I have not exactly been there, but my Mulungu (Allah) told my Apostle[15], who told his descendants, who told my father and mother, who told me, that when we die we shall go to a Shamba (a plantation), where——”
[15] Those who translate Rasul, meaning, literally, “one sent,” by prophet instead of apostle, introduce a notable fallacy into the very formula of Moslem faith. Mohammed never pretended to prophecy in our sense of foretelling future events.