Kallibar Chronicles The Unexpurgated History

Elephant

Ruprecht the Incontinent i

MV Cojones del Perro

Kallibar Chronicles: The Unexpurgated History of the Great Nation of Kallibar.
By Thomas Makebe Junior

Kallibar was a great African Nation even before the coming of the imperialist British. Back
in the mists of time the first Umbung of Kallibar was known to own a cow, a goat and
three wives - as recorded in order of value on the wall of a cave near the site of the original
Kallibar capital Thri Mudduts. 500 years later an expanded capital city bloomed on a new
site and was known as For Mudduts. By this time, the Umbung of Kallibar had assumed the
title Great Munificent Umbung of Kallibar as he once gave away a wife, (although it is
believed he kept all of his cows)

The next cataclysmic event was the Great Tribal War of Kallibar, which was declared by
the descendent of the Great Munificent Umbung, The Great Flatulent Umbung. At the end
of a sumptuous banquet marking the occasion of the Great Flatulent's marriage to his 26th
wife, (26 is now considered an unlucky number in Kallibar and there is no 26 Balooku
note!), the guest of honour, the Pooh Bah of Mdonkey declined to pass wind, thereby
insulting the chef and more seriously the Great Flatulent Umbung. The Umbung declared
war immediately and murdered the Pooh Bah and his entourage, and would have feasted on
their remains but for an unfortunate incident with a plate of figs beforehand. To this day
there is great enmity between Mdonkey and Kallibar.

The heart of darkness that is Kallibar was lit by the flaming torches of British Imperialism in
the mid 19th century. Patrick Stanley, a little known Irish cousin of the more famous
American writer and explorer, set out to beat his cousin to the source of the Nile, (and meet
Doctor Livingstone, I presume!). However, it was not to be. . . . the role of figs in the
history of Kallibar loomed large once again as Stanley's elephant consumed 17 barrels, and
stampeded straight across the Zambezi and 200 miles into the Kallibari bush.

Meanwhile, it was the third year of what many would consider the Augustan age of

Kallibari culture, that is the reign of The Small Flatulent Umbung, so called because he was
the offspring of The Slightly Pungent Umbung and his only wife, a Hottentot maiden
captured in

a raid on a village in Matebeleland, being sadly unable to escape because of her extremely
short legs. The whole Kallibari Nation had never been so rich, many having at least a half-
share in a goat, their own chicken and at least 3 wives. Imagine the bewilderment of the
noble Kallibari when Stanley arrived astride a 3-ton elephant berserk with irritable bowel
syndrome. Of course, it may be that they assumed that this was the stately entry of a great
potentate, but oral history records that many hid up the nearest tree. Stanley's elephant
expired suddenly after one movement too many in the grand square of the Kallibari capital,
falling gracefully to the floor killing two Kallibari wives and more importantly to the
villagers, the 4 chickens they had been chasing.

Stanley, naturally, was a little flustered by the unexpected turn events had taken, and was
himself taken aback to learn that the small stream by the capital city was the Peewee river,
and not the Limpopo. As his was the only white face for 600 miles, he was less surprised
at not seeing Doctor Livingstone. The Small Flatulent Umbung, seeing the elephant had
blown its last trump, and seeing only a small white man trembling in the grand square,
climbed down from the tree with natural majesty, smoothed the creases in his loincloth and
bellowed 'BUMMALAKKA WEE!' at the, by-now, somewhat nervous Stanley. Stanley's
querulous 'top o' the mornin!" was greeted with haughty disdain and a loud blast from the
rear of the Umbungian ceremonial loincloth. Clearly, communication was going to be a
problem. Stanley, in leap of linguistic intuition rarely to be surpassed, tried a quizzical look
and mustered an answering guff from the depths of his jodhpurs. The reaction from The
Small Flatulent Umbung was immediate and gratifying ~ he embraced Stanley as a long lost
(white admittedly) brother and escorted him through the grass door within the mud walls of
the Grand Celestial Palace of the Umbungs.

Stanley naturally assumed an opportunity had arisen for trade and duly displayed
from his portmanteau dozens of cowrie shells and an alarming number of beads. The
Umbung gave a sinister laugh and clapped his hands thrice. Stanley waited in fear for his
life.., but nothing happened. Nothing seemed to happen the way it did in "Travels in Africa"
by Evelyn Tent! Somewhat at a loss, Stanley attempted to festoon the Umbung with several
ropes of beads. This appeared to anger the Umbung, who rose to his full height of 8
mantodjas (about four feet) and glowered at the cringing Stanley. Suddenly a glimmer of
understanding appeared in the Umbung's eye, or perhaps a fly had flown into it.
Nevertheless, he strode majestically to the door, and summoned his chief wife. He pointed
to the dusky maiden's neck, and although somewhat distracted by her noble embonpoint,
Stanley noted a necklace of rough cut quartz-.like stones..

Stanley had heard of the fabled King Smelliman's Mines, where the diamonds lay around
like stones.. By sign language and flatulence he made the Umbung understand that he would
exchange the beautiful glass beads for those dirty stones on plaited grass. But the Umbung
was not to be fooled, no!! Every Kallibari knows the only things more valuable than
diamonds are...

figs! ! Stanley was taken to the Royal Kallibari Fig Warehouse, he felt distraught at the
fortune lost to him all because of a greedy elephant.

But, of course Stanley's great trek to the heart of Africa did not go unrewarded. Taking a
leaf from the Great Munificent Umbung's book, the Small Flatulent Umbung made Stanley a
present of his 26th best wife and a quarter ton of figs, before sending him on his way with
a great naming ceremony at which Stanley acquired the nom de cachet "The Pale and
Interesting Umbung Who arrived on the exploding elephant"

The history of the Kallibari and their worldly-wise leaders, the Umbung, is a warlike one.
Kallibari fought on the side of the British during the Zulu wars, sadly the Great Navigating
Umbung's talents did not include geography, an d it is a little known footnote to the Battle of
Rorke's Drift that he mistook north for south, joined the Zulu ranks and thereby ensured a
victory for the plucky British. (see The Jewel In The Crown: Kallibar under the Empire pub
1956 Themeekee Publishing Inc.)

King George V founded the King's Own Kallibari Rifle Platoon in 1914 and
dispatched a little known German cousin, Prince Ruprecht the Incontinent of Saxony for an
opening ceremony of the Royal Umbungian Barracks at For Mudutts. As with many Kallibari
ceremonial functions it was to end in flatulence and tragedy. Mindful of the events
surrounding the beginning of the Great Tribal War of the Kallibar, Ruprecht duly paid the
required compliment to the ceremonial feast. However, he lived up to his name and made an
unfortunate impression on the Umbung's best wife. The Great Peevish Umbung was
scarcely amused and duly slaughtered and ate Prince Ruprecht and his unfortunate party.
This of course is the true reason for the declaration of World War One.

Kallibar enjoyed relative comfort in the immediate post-war years, largely
due to the prevailing isolationist attitude of the Umbungian Stock Market, the Cow Dung
Index, in refusing to trade in anything but diamonds and figs. However the isolationist
attitude did not extend to all matters. In 1924, Lebotho, the eldest son of the then ruler,
known as the Largely Disappointing Umbung due to the relatively few disasters associated
with his reign, was awarded a Stanley Scholarship to Oxford Technical College. Gratified
by the great honour bestowed on his son, although perhaps confusing this award with an
endowment bestowed by a different explorer-benefactor, the Largely Disappointing
Umbung declared a national holiday and held a feast of figs and flatulence not seen since the
glory days of the Small Flatulent Umbung. Early the next day, Lebotho, whose retinue
included only his six least-favourite wives, began his journey to Johannesburg astride a
donkey. Of course, his father had provided him with priceless gifts to lavish on the British
Royal family, for the King, his wife and his offspring a quarter ton of the finest figs, three
goats, a chicken and furthermore, as his own personal gift to King George V. his six least-
favourite wives.

The seven hundred mile trip to Johannesburg was arduous and extremely lengthy,
not least because his six least-favourite wives would insist on relinquishing the quarter ton
load of figs and resting before the sun had moved a quarter mantodja in the sky (certainly
less than an hour) Thankfully. Lebotho's skill at geography surpassed that of the Great
Navigating Umbung, and they arrived at Johannesburg with only a small detour via Chad.
Lebotho presented his credentials to the British representative in Johannesburg Sir Bertram
CrustyOlde-Farquhar, a career diplomat once heard to have asked the Maharajah of
Ramditin "What's a dam char-wallah doin' ridin' a polo pony?" Sadly, the Maharajah's reply
was not recorded. Lebotho, clearly unaware that Crustyolde-Farquhar's knowledge of
British colonies was restricted to a vague belief that 'there was dem fine shootin' to be had
in Africa and the other place where the locals weren't quite so dark and wore more clothes',
was awe-struck when CrustyOlde-Farquhar bellowed at him to get his goats off the
residence's magnolias. Undeterred Lebotho realised he might be best advised to make for a
port rather than attempt to find a berth in Johannesburg and set off puzzled by the strange
shade of purple the diplomat's face had turned after Lebotho had proffered the traditional
Umbungian valediction the fluff of farewell.

Lebotho's appearance at Cunard's Cape Town office provoked some
consternation. at least when he tethered his six least-favourite wives outside the door and
led his livestock to the reception desk. Needless to say Cunard were unable to provide first
class passage to Lebotho and his chattels, but suggested instead that the third class
accommodation he had requested for his six least-favourite wives could house the whole
party. Lebotho took umbrage and wished to know what sort of Transportation Company
would permit a man's wives to travel with his 1ivestock. Having received the unsolicited
advice from the commissionaire, on his undignified egress from Cunard, to 'get down to the
dock saad' where 'kaffirs' might find passage more suited to their station, Lebotho chanced
upon the non-segregated and highly salubrious hostelry "The Boatswain's Carbuncle". On
entering, he was pleased to note that the exclusively male clientele had brought many and
varied specimens of the animal kingdom with them. This was more like it! He struck up a
conversation at the bar with an engaging fellow of Hispanic looks. As luck would have it,
he was master of his own Panamanian registered vessel MV Los Cojones Del Perro, as fine
a ship as sailed with a crew of escaped convicts. Captain Manuel Labor, for it was he,
would be delighted to accommodate the son and heir of so illustrious a personage as the
Umbung of Kallibar. Indeed, he maintained, he'd do it for free only he was a bit short that
week as the ship's purser had robbed the safe and run off to Denmark for gender
reassignment. Lebotho was perplexed when Labor protested that he couldn't accept
payment in figs as, although he knew them to be prized above diamonds in Kallibar, in his
experience Coutts' Bank would never exchange them for hard currency. However, the
possibility of working his passage was intimated to Lebotho, and he was pleased to say that
his six least-favourite wives would be delighted to work it for him.

The Kallibari deputation arrived in Southampton some 15 months later as
Labor had neglected to mention that he was departing Cape Town for Southampton via
Manila, Shanghai and Valparaiso, those being the only ports where the local constabulary
had yet to issue a warrant for his arrest. Lebotho was bemused by the inordinate amount of
time that it had taken his six least favourite wives to clean the captains quarters and was
surprised that Labor seemed positively cheerful about it. Still if the white devils couldn't
make a good bargain that was no blister on his mantodja, as the Kallibari quaintly say.
Lebotho was also surprised when. despite some few barren years of marriage with his six
least favourite wives, on arrival in Southampton they were all heavily pregnant!

After leaving a quarter ton of dried figs, three goats and a chicken with a clearly mystified
Windsor Castle domestic, who on no account was prepared to take charge of six heavily
pregnant Kallibari matrons, (no sir that just wouldn't do, he said), Lebotho and his six least-
favourite wives made their way to the hallowed portal to the fields of academe known as
The Joseph Arkwright Technical College of Oxford. Imagine his dismay to find that, as his
journey had taken fully 18 months, the offer of a scholarship was no longer available, but
they did have a job washing dishes in the refectory kitchen. Clearly an affront such as this
was not to be borne, and the College Principal was aghast, as he rightly should have been,
when Lebotho lifted his regal breechclout and emitted a fearsome fart of contempt.

Lebotho called in at the famous cricket ground of Lords on his way back
to Southampton, as his father had often told him of the fabulous English game of cricket.
Although the Largely Disappointing Umbung had tried many times to explain the game, the
result was inevitably complete mystification for poor Lebotho. Therefore, he decided, he
would take the opportunity to watch it for himself. What a game it was! Perfect for the
Kallibari Nation! A game where for half of the time it lasts nine elevenths of the team sit
with their feet up, sipping cold drinks, later the opportunity of a little light exercise running
backwards and forward between two sets of sticks, until the other team have knocked the
sticks over ten times! ! Then even better! The other team have to run between the sticks,
trying to hit the little red stone, while you stand and watch until you have completed the
knocking over ten times. The game could take anything up to five days! But no need to
worry, no! You started at 11 of the clock in the strange time counting of the White
Umbungs, played for an hour or so, then took a break to eat, then three more hours and
then eat again. Only one more hour then finish for the evening. The English sides favourite
rule was the one where you could not p1ay in the rain, this had special significance for the
English crowd who invariably cheered when the rain began. So it was that Lebotho did not
gain an education but brought the glorious game of cricket to Kallibar, and this resulted in
the infamous "Flatulence Tour" which tragically ended the career of cricketing legend
Harold "Haymaker" Buttlethwaite. But that is another story...

After greeting Lebotho's return with yet another ceremonial feast, the Largely Disappointing
Umbung was only to live a further week. He choked on an unripe fig when the first born of
Lebotho was presented to him and his appearance was strangely different to the rest of the
Kallibaris, never before had straight black hair been seen on a baby. The still grieving
Kallibaris remarked among themselves later that it was a blessing the Largely Disappointing
Umbung had not lived to hear Manolito's first words 'Madre de Dios, Qua tetas Negrita' on
noticing his father's 26th best wife's décolletege. The naming ceremony of Lebotho took
place 39 and a half days after the expiry of his predecessor, as is traditional, and it is the
subject of great debate among Kallibari historians. The traditional view is hotly disputed by
the Marxist-Leninist theoreticians of present day For Mudutts University. Professor
Umdunka Stalin believes that Lebotho never recovered from his visit to the northerly climes
of England and he moots that Lebotho suffered continuously from the cold ever after. In
his opinion the recorded name of Lebotho is almost certainly due to the incorrect
transcription of the Chief Witch Doctor's words as a direct result of his stuttering efforts to
say the Great Cold Umbung.

After his father's death, the newly named Great Cuckold Umbung, sank into a deep
depression, rarely eating, taking a great deal of exercise and even refraining from beating his
wives. Such untypical Kallibari behaviour soon came to the notice of the Great Cuckold
Umbung's chief advisor, Notaik Themeekee, and he began to ponder the problem. Casting
his mind back to the return of the Great Cuckold Umbung, he remembered the joy on his
face as he described his experience at the home of cricket. Themeekee resolved to insist
that as the English XI often played at such piffling outposts of the Empire as Australia and
India, surely they were duty bound to honour a fixture against the Jewel in the Crown that
is Kallibari. (Incidentally, the senior lecturer in Empire Studies at For Mudutts University,
Norman St John Mabuto, believes that this is an epithet wrongly applied to India as Kallibari
has always had more diamonds than India, and he attributes this to the insane jealousy of
that old India hand Rudyard Kipling for the incredible wealth of Kallibari's figs.)

Secretary of the MCC at the time Ralph (pronounced Raife) CrustyOlde-Farquhar, brother
of Sir Bertram, was somewhat taken aback to receive a communication written on a palm
leaf, signed Notaik Themeekee. But on consulting his diplomat brother, he was surprised at
his advice to 'go and stuff the fuzzy wuzzies, it's not as though you can beat anyone else!"
However, as all administrators everywhere are wont, CrustyOlde-Farquhar was not about
to act precipitately and risk making a decision. Waiting eleven months, he tabled a motion at
the annual general meeting of the MCC. He proposed that they send an England
Development XI on the grounds that: if they lost it was after all a callow side that went
purely for experience,and if they won well and good -and of course the committee could
take all the credit anyway. Even now luck had to take a large hand. In the grand tradition of
MCC meetings more than adequate numbers attended for a quorum. However, in the same
traditional manner most of the committee were disinclined to vote, as they might actually
have to wake up to do so. The motion was tied at one for and one against, when Percy
Winthrop-Goatsmogler's pipe, which he had earlier placed in his tweed jacket pocket,
burned through to his trouser leg and ignited the lucifers he had in the right hand pocket,
when he jumped to his feet and shouted 'Ayeeeeeeeeeee!' this was construed as an "aye"
rather than a 'nay' and the vote was passed. It is a 20th century myth that a casting vote is
referred to by the MCC in committee as a 'Goat Smoker's Vote."

Now the hunt was on for a suitable captain for the tour. Eventually a professional,
rather than a gentleman was chosen, since it wouldn't do to have a gentleman defeated at
all, and the committee could always say they were trying to do their bit for the lower
classes. A colossus of a candidate soon was found. Harold "Haymaker' Buttlethwaite, born
in Heckmondwyke, Yorkshire to a mining family, left school at 12 and went himself to go
down the mines. Claustrophobia put paid to a promising career when he refused to set
foot in the lift at the pit-head. He tried his hand at working as a publican's potboy but kept
dropping the glasses. He trained ferrets but lost many customers when he refused to return
them saying he wanted to keep them in his trousers permanently. In those days before
global mass media had created that highly lucrative vocation known as professional
Yorkshireman" there was only one road left for a Yorkshire lad of little education and the
requisite number of limbs: professional cricketer. At sixteen, never one to let a lack of talent
stand in his way, Buttlethwaite invented his own nickname of "Haymaker" hoping to conjure
an image of brutal untutored stroke play somewhat at odds with his somewhat spindly and
anaemic appearance. The glint of sunlight on his wire-framed glasses as he strode out to the
middle almost buck ling under the weight of his bat and pads soon struck fear into the
hearts of hi s team-mates. By 1932, Buttlethwaite was at the height of his powers, with a
first class average of one and a half, thanks to an error by a blind Clerk at Wisden's who'd
mistaken a cheese grater for his braille typewriter. Yes, this was the man for the job. Aged
26 and 6 stones soaking wet he was an imposing figure to send to Kallibar. Meanwhile, in
Kallibar, the Great Cuckold Umbung's mood was not improving: his treatment of his wives
had deteriorated to the extent that some of them were actually sleeping inside the Palace!
His goats were running round loose (incidentally some believe this is the origin of the phrase
'running goat' as a term for a chaotic situation) and his chickens were not being fed. Notaik
Themeekee was rightly concerned and ordered the Chief Witch Doctor to sacrifice some of
the said chickens. Still, he had recently received a somewhat ungracious reply to his
enquiry from the Secretary of the MCC to the effect that the 'would not stint in its patriotic
duty' and was 'more than prepared to visit the tinpot African backwater that Kallibar
undoubtedly must be". The tour was to begin with a reception by the Band of the King's
Own Kallibari Platoon on the arrival of the tour party at Peewee Halt, For Mudutts railway
terminus. Yes, thought Notaik Themeekee, they would be so impressed by his own special
arrangement of God Save The King for two triangles and bongos!

Genuine "european train" with Not one African part by golly.....

Not unexpectedly, the tour did not begin smoothly. Buttlethwaite fell from
the train, in a manner not unreminiscent of Stanley's dismount from his stricken elephant,
as his foot found fresh air instead of the expected wooden steps, which, resourcefully
enough, the Kallibari engineer of the train had removed for use in the train's rather
consumptive steam engine after running out of coal. The train, of course, had arrived late,
due largely to the Engineer's willingness to visit each and every one in his family to show
them his genuine "European" train 'with not one African part, by golly!" The band struck up
God Save The King, which they played in a note perfect if bizarre arrangement, largely due
to the fact that the sheet music, published by Themeke Publishing Inc. had been printed
upside down. Buttlethwaite bore the resulting cacophony with remarkable fortitude,
evincing only a slight clenching of the jaw as if fighting a minor stomach disorder. This
was in fact, the case. The whole team, aside from Binky Bartholomew, a gentleman player,
who refused to eat anything apart from the jam roly-poly willingly supplied free of charge
by his old school, Gruntfuttocks Academy for Young Gentlemen, was suffering from
Kallibari Kramps thanks to a Gecko stew thoughtfully provided by the Engineer's fourth
best wife, when he called to let her stoke his engine.

The Great Cuckold Umbung, visibly cheered by the imminent fruition of a long held dream,
came forward to shake Buttlethwaite's hand, as he had learned to do shortly after meeting
Manuel Labor, who had intimated that the Umbungian "Guff of Greeting" was often
misconstrued as a breach of etiquette by those less sophisticated than himself.
Understandably overcome with the joy of the occasion, the Umbung forgot himself, lifted
his breechclout and unleashed a roaring raspberry by way of greeting. All -being in a
delicate condition-suffered the inevitable consequences, save Binky Bartholemew. After
cleaning themselves and the Umbung as best they could in the stagnant waters of the
Peewee they repaired to the Celestial Palace. The Fig banquet was ready and ominous
portents rumbled in the digestive tracts of the stricken sportsmen.

There was a sticky moment during the Banquet as Binky Bartholemew
removed a further slice of jam roly poly from Popplewhite's Patent Pudding Preserver for
the Traveller. The Kallibaris looked on aghast, surely the Umbung would punish this severe
breach of etiquette.... A pudding instead of feasting on the fulsome fecundity of figs! ! !
The Umbung merely smiled and said " Um hat toe maribi Bumma Lakka we ok ok cricket
up done!" while a sinister smile played around the corners of his mouth.. The feast was
over, it was time for the naked dancing as Binky and his public school chums redeemed
themselves by performing an old boarding school ritual while singing the Eton Boating
Song. Buttlethwaite's lip curled in a sneer as he watched the upper class making fools of
themselves in front of the opposition. He knew where his duty lay... . The place to make a
fool of yourself was on the field of play! After the revelry was over the England XI retired
to sleep under the stars in the kraal. It was a little crowded as the upturn in the Umbung's
mood had caused him to begin treating his wives in a more Kallibari fashion once more and
they had taken their rightful place outside. The valiant cricketers rose a little jaded the next
day, with the exception of Binky Bartholomew and his particular friend the Hon. Jeremy
"Jemmy" CrustyOlde-Farquhar, nephew of Sir Bertram, son of Ralph (pronounced Raife),
who had declined all offers to engage in "Ugandan discussions" with the Umbung's wives.

It was the day of the game... the sun shone on the brown dustbowl surrounded by Indian
Army surplus marquees which constituted the Slightly Pungent Umbung Memorial Stadium
and Market. An expectant crowd of the Umbung's cabinet, three chickens and a goat had
amassed to watch the historic event. The game began normally enough.. Buttlethwaite
strode out accompanied by the Kallibari captain Hee Kant Batt and the two umpires, the
Umbung himself and his chief Minister, to conduct the pre-match formalities of tossing a 3
balooki coin and sacrificing a chicken on the popping crease at the Peewee end.
Buttlethwaite, true to form, couldn't win the toss as he confused the two sides, not being
able to remember whether the goat or the mantodja meant heads. Hee kant Batt, rather
unwisely perhaps, elected to field first, explaining that as it was eleven o'clock he quite
fancied an hours snooze under the banyan tree just to the left of long on. Buttlethwaite, no
mean tactician, decided he would go in at number 11 and that Binky and Jemmy could open
the batting as they liked to do most things together. There was a short delay to the start of
the match as Binky and Jemmy had a spat and complained that everyone knew they both
preferred to bat for the other side. A tall moody looking Kallibari warrior Jimmi Chaketfasta
was to open the bowling for the Kallibari eleven. He had filed his teeth only that morning
and was convinced that he could achieve record bowling figures for a Kallibari in a test
match. Since this was the inaugural game and he would be the only bowler by special
arrangements between the captains, this was a fair assumption. The other Kallibaris felt that
with all the running between the sticks they'd have to do later, running up and throwing
something that resembled a really quite heavy rock would be a little too taxing between meal
breaks. Chaketfasta fixed Jemmy with a steely glare and pawed the ground for all the world
like a bull told he was the next candidate for castration. He pelted towards the wicket at
breakneck speed, spun his arm while his body made a spastic motion as if treading on an
electrified rail. The ball hurtled to the ground two feet in front of his own left toe, bounced
weakly once or twice and rolled to a halt at the side of Jemmy's pristine Lillywhite's patent
cricket boot. "Owzat!" shouted Chaketfasta, somewhat hopefully. The Umbung produced a
copy of Wisden's Compleat Rules of Cricket edited by WG Grace (pub. 1820) and shouted
'OUT definitely Out LBW'. Jemmy turned dejectedly towards the brown canvas of the
pavilion and kicked at the ground sulkily. The Umbung did a delighted little jig before he
remembered that he really ought to display a modicum of impartiality. The wickets
continued to fall by mostly foul means until at last the telltale glint of the wire-framed
spectacles announced that cometh the hour cometh the man. Yes, Buttlethwaite was on his
way to the crease. Chaketfasta girded his loins for the superhuman effort it would require
for him to bowl something that resembled a genuine delivery. He failed. He bowled that
rapid projectile ball that travels straight and level at about eye level. Buttlethwaite whimpered
in abject fear and held the bat up like a crucifix in front of his face to ward off the inevitable
concussion. The ball hit the very corner of his bat and flew to the boundary to where Hee
Kant Batt lay asleep at what was now third man since he had not moved since the very first
ball. He slept on as the ball ricocheted off his forehead and went for six, as it had not been
in contact with the ground before crossing the boundary. Buttlethwaite could not be so
lucky twice and was out hit wicket after treading on his stumps when Chaketfasta followed
through further than his delivery reached on the track. Six runs all out and the captains'
decision was to take an early lunch.

Buttlethwaite put himself on to bowl, Binky and Jemmy held hands at first
and second slip and the wicket keeper had resumed "Ugandan discussions" with the
Umbung's least favourite wife. The auspices were not good. Buttlethwaite bowled, Hee kant
Batt took a wild cross-batted swipe for all the world as though swatting flies at the door of
his mud hut and missed the ball. The ball hurtled past the other wise engaged wicket-keeper
while Jemmy and Binky made daisy chains out of what plant-life they could find and it
rolled all the way to the boundary for four runs. Buttlethwaite was rattled and exhorted the
wicket keeper to at least keep one eye on the game. He ran in to bowl again and the
Umbung shouted, "no-ball!" before he reached the crease to leave the Kallibaris trailing by
one run. Third time lucky, thought Buttlethwaite, with more hope than expectation. Hee
Kant Batt meanwhile not realising that the Umbung's early call of no ball had meant the ball
was not forthcoming,continued to flail his bat right up until the next delivery struck it by the
most amazing fluke. A thick edge temporarily separated the slips, went for four and it was
all up for the tourists they had lost by ten wickets.

Do not be fooled into thinking that such a catastrophic loss was the rea1 tragedy of the
"Flatulence Tour". No my readers, for you will not be surprised to learn that "Um hat toe
maribi Bumma Lakka we ok ok cricket up done!" means....

What an insult! Wait 'til we've won the cricket and we'll eat the white devils!"

To be continued. .

Episode II

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