Foetid Fragrance

From “Corona.” Written by H. P. Cinnamond, an official in Kenya.

“VTJEROGE, the memsahib says there li is a bad smell coming from under 'the house.” Njeroge sniffed. ‘‘There is a smell, but it is not a bad smell,” he amended.

The house-boy, in turn, sniffed.

“No, it is not a bad smell and yet— and yet—” he sniffed again, “it is not a good smell.”

“A smell must be either bad or good, Githenji. If it is not a bad smell then it must be a good smell.”

“Perhaps it is a good smell,” agreed Githenji, “but whether it is good or bad the memsahib wants it taken away.”

“And how does one take away a smell?”

“That I do not know, but you must take it away.”

“I must take it away?”

“Yes, the memsahib’s words were, ‘Tell the shamba-boy to take away the smell’ and you are the shamba-boy, Njeroge.”

“Truly, lam the shamba-boy. I dig in the shamba and I clean the pots—what has all that to do with smells?”

“That also I do not know, but the smell must be taken away for the memsahib does not like it.”

“It is not a bad smell.”

“That does not matter; you have heard the memsahib’s order.”

“Yes, and doubtless she must be obeyed, but how am I to take away a smell? I cannot lift it in my hands.”

“It may be there is something making the smell —that you could lift in your hands.”

Njeroge lay flat on his stomach and wriggled between the piles supporting the house.

“There is nothing here,” he called, “only very many flies and a dead cat.”

“Has the cat been long dead?”

“Yes, I think so, its face is much eaten.”

“Perhaps it is that which makes the smell?”

“Perhaps. It is very hot in here. What am I to do?”

“Bring out the cat and we will take it to the memsahib; then she can smell it and will know if it is the smell we are to take away.”