CAIRO TO KISUMU Take these Kavirondo men who have gathered about me just now as I write. Some of them look as though they might have been cut from black marble by a sculptor. Look at those three brown bucks at my left. They are as straight as Michelangelo's famed statue of David and about as well formed. See how firmly they stand on their black feet. Their heads are thrown back and two have burst out laughing as 1 turn my camera toward them. With my eye I can follow the play of all their muscles as they slip beneath those smooth ebony skins. The Kavi¬ rondo seem the perfection of physical manhood. That nude fellow next me has a coil of wire about his biceps and a pound of wire on his right wrist. He is smoking a pipe, but it just hangs between his teeth, which shine out, flashing white as he smiles.

The man next him has two brass rings on each of his black thumbs, bands of telegraph wire around his wrists, and two wide coils of wire above and below the biceps of his left arm. He has five wire bands about his neck, circles of wire under each knee, and great anklets of twisted wire on each of his feet. As I look I can see the calloused places where the wire has worn into his instep. There are worse ones on that third man whose ankles are loaded with twisted wire. The latter must have several pounds on each leg, and the wire on the right leg extends from the foot to the middle of the calf.

Now look at their heads. The first man has short wool which hugs the scalp, and the other two have twisted their hair so that it hangs down about the head like Medusa’s locks.

Stopping for a moment, I ask the men to turn around so I may get a view from the rear. They are not quite so 296