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Updated: June 24, 2025
He said, so far as he knew, the porters called him "Bwana Mkubwa," which means "Great Master," and is applied to the chief man of a safari, regardless of who or what he is. It is merely a title that is always used to designate the boss.
"No, there are none to the south of us for many miles," replied Bwana. "Since Kovudoo deserted his country I rather doubt that one could find a native in that direction under two or three hundred miles." Bwana was wondering how a lone white man could have made his way through the savage, unhospitable miles that lay toward the south.
"Yes, bwana. How many?" "Fifty." The bystanders gasped, and the shining countenances of the culprits turned a sickly gray. Fifty lashes is a maximum punishment, inflicted only for the gravest crimes. More cannot be administered without fear of grave consequences. The offence of straggling is generally considered not serious. Even Simba was not certain he had heard aright.
He had little doubt, of course, but that he should succeed; but it is to his credit that he did have some slight doubts. "You needn't be afraid of the lion," said Meriem, noting his slight hesitancy. "There hasn't been a man eater around here for two years, Bwana says, and the game is so plentiful that there is no necessity to drive Numa to human flesh.
"Yes, Bwana." "Then lead us from the city by the safest way." "There is no safe way," replied the black, "and even if we reach the gates we shall have to fight. I can lead you from this building to a side street with little danger of meeting anyone on the way. Beyond that we must take our chance of discovery.
These also were of tribes strange to him; but of East African types with which he was familiar. They were all dressed in a sort of uniform of khaki, wore caps with a curtain hanging behind, and arm bands gayly emblazoned with imperial eagles. All this was very impressive. Simba conceived a respect for this white man's importance. Evidently he was a bwana m'kubwa.
She had ridden much during her year with Bwana and My Dear. She knew each favorite clump of concealing reeds along the river that the buffalo loved best. She knew a dozen places where lions laired, and every drinking hole in the drier country twenty-five miles back from the river. With unerring precision that was almost uncanny she could track the largest or the smallest beast to his hiding place.
"Can you and I, alone, reach his camp?" asked the Hon. Morison. "Yes, Bwana," assured the black. Baynes turned toward the head-man. He was conversant with "Hanson's" plans now.
"Cazi Moto! Simba!" he shouted angrily. "Bwana?" "Sah?" two panting voices answered. "What is this?" They both began to speak at once. "You, Cazi Moto," commanded Kingozi. "These men are liars," began Cazi Moto. "What men?" "These men who brought the barua. They tell lies, bad lies, and we beat them for it." "Since when have you beaten liars? And since when have I ceased to deal punishment?
He called Mali-ya-bwana to him. "Talk to these shenzis," said he. Mali-ya-bwana talked. His speech was not eloquent, nor did it flatter the Leopard Woman, but it was to the point. "My bwana is a great lord," said he. "He is master of all things. He fights the lion, he fights the elephant. Nothing causes him to be afraid. He is not foolish, like a woman. He knows the water, the sun, the wind.
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