Arizona republican., 1911-11-19
PLAYING GOLF IN ZANZIBAR
Life in the Faraway Land is Sugses- tive of a Continuous Circus Prooes
 sion Passing Along the Highway Stories of Stanley and Tippoo Tib.

| Playing golf in Zanzibar always struck me as being the most incon . gruous thing l ever did. says Sir Alex
 ander Powell in the New York Inde- pendent. It seems as though enc
 ought to devote his energies to pirit- 1 ing or pearl fishing or slave trading in place with such a name. Moreover. | there is such continuous circus pro- cession passing along the highway natives in kangas of every pattern and color; Nasal and Swahili warriors from the mainland; Parsee bankers in victorias and Hindu merchants in 'rickshaws; giant privates of the
 Kings African Rifles in bottle green tunics and blue puttees: yelled women of the sutan's zenana out for an air
 ing in cumbersome, gaudily painted
 barouches, preceded and followed by
 red jacketed lancers on white horses;
 perhaps his hghness himself. dap
 per. discontented looking young mu-
 latto, whirling by in big gray rac-
 ing car-that it is quite out of tne
 question to keep your eye on the ball and you play very bad golf in cOnse-
 quence. Another trouble is that the caddies are all natives. and solf IS discouraging enough in itself without
 having to shout "Fore." or ask for a
 mashie or butter in Swlhi'i.
 That night the consul giYes a din
 ner for you at the Zanzibar club, where you are served by barefooted servants, immaculate in crimson tur- bans and white linen, and eat with solid silver from irreproachable china, in a room made almost comfortable by many swinging punkahs. Afte: dinner you sit on the terrace in the dark, somewhere between the ocean and the stars, and over the coffee and cigars you listen to strange stories of the Coast" told by men who themselves played a part in them One man tells you what Stan ley really said when, after months m the jungle, without seeing white mans face. he finally stumbled on the camp of Livingstone, and how, instead of rushing up and throwing his arms around him and crying:
 "Saved at last. old fellow; saved at last," he lifted his helmet at sight of the Eaunt, lever StIlCheh hiah 'iee'o in front of the tent. and said. Just as he would if accosting a stranger in Fifth avenue or Piccadilly: Doctor Livingstone. I believe""
 Another. a wiry, bright eyed French man, with a face tanned to the color of mahogany, tells of the days when the route from Tanganyika to the coast was marked by the bleaching skeletons of slaves, and he points out to you. across the housetops, the saualid dwelling where Tippoo I'm. the greatest of all the slave dealers, died A British commissioner, the glow of his cigar lighting up his rud- dv face. his scarlet cummerbund ana his white mess jacket. relates In strict confidence chapter of secret diplo- matic history, and you learn how the German foreign office shattered the British dream of an all red Cape-to- Cairo railway and why England IS So insistent on the Congo being placed under international control Then d Danish ivory hunter breaks in. ana you hear all sorts of wild tales of life on safari, of ivory trading in the Lado Enclaye. of brushes with the Uganda poIice south of Gondokoro and Of strange tribal customs practised m