Abington High School - Oracle Yearbook (Abington, PA)

Page 31 text:

everything. Lean dogs are slinking here and there around the village. The men return to tell me my hut in readiness for me to move into. This hut is made with poles, sticks, boka ia type of bambooj, mud, and grass. I inquire how it was made. They tell me that poles were put upright in the ground in a circle, then long sticks were tied on either side of the poles all the way around. Boca is placed upright on the outside of the sticks and tied. Mud is then placed all over this. The roof is thatched. The inside has a mud floor and mud walls. After I inspect my dwell- ing, I set up my camp cot and go out to join the natives. Do you Want to see our villagef' they ask. 'tBoyo CyesD, I say. The first thing I see is the inside of one of the huts. On four poles is a rude platform with a mat on which two or three people could sleep. There are two of these platforms. Earthen pots, spears, mats, bows and arrows are strewn around the room. It is apparent that the goats and chickens sleep in the hut with the natives at night. I am directed down a well-cleared path lflil I. . '.l,f - M 2 ' Q 'Viv' I I I ..-, A . ELLI RICKERT, '51 toward a stream. Here I see the women carrying pots of water ou their heads while others are filling theirs. The water is crystal clear and very cool. Wearily walk- ing back toward the village after seeing many interesting things, I notice the gar- dens where men are working in the cool of evening. At night I stand around the fire with the natives and have my meal While they eat theirs. After the meal we sit and talk about hunting experiences we have had. l go to sleep with joy in my heart that I have been able to visit this village and see the many different native customs and the people's way of living. ROY BRILL, '53 My Aquatic Refuge With a final adjustment of the air valves, I began my descent into the tepid crystal-blue Waters of the Gulf of Mexico. This was my first dive into the realm of Neptune. As the water flushed against my face mask, a tremendous sensation of excite- ment sped through my body only to be overshadowed by awe and amazement when I was completely submerged. There, spread before me, was a world of peace and tranquility never equalled in our world of air-breathers. I had never seen such an exquisite shade of aquamarine. The sunlight, reflected from the surface, sent lazy beams of prismatic colors .danc- ing along the ocean floor. Instead of a horizon there was a miraculous blending of the massy bottom with the enchanting water. This combination of color and at- mosphere reminded me of an oriental garden with soft lilting music filtering along the tide. Life in this newly found haven seemed to move at a pleasantly slow and easy pace, set to the rhythm of the ebbing of the tide. The long, deep-green seaweed, which covered virtually everything, swayed to and fro in the lazy, systematic motion of a pendulum doling out the seconds. Even

Page 30 text:

fi Q11 qw . '91 1 ?4 I ' , .ppy , an - 1 , s if it 1 ' 2 i r W .. 4 ' s LOR RAIN E BATES, '51 .Z. . Kraal Roy Brill, a sophomore at Abington this year, is the son of a missionary and has lived in Africa most of his life. When he was very young, his parents were sent to a mission station in the Belgian Congo, where for many years they worked among the natives. Roy spoke the native trade language before he learned to speak Eng- lish. He later attended a mission school which had only fowr rooms and sixty pupils and was run in three-month periods. Roy, who says that he has enjoyed his African enzperiences, hopes some day to be or missionary himself. Trudging along a narrow, winding path with tall telephant grass reaching high overhead, and entangling vines reaching out to trip the less prudent, I suddenly leave the maze of grass and vines and burst upon a small village. Natives come running out of their huts with cries of Sene! Sene! Azi malamu mingi kutala yo! fHello! Hello! It is good to see you lj Each native from the oldest to the youngest has to shake hands with me except a few shy ones who hang back. I see natives with peculiar tribal markings on their bodies, earrings in their ears, bracelets and anklets, and many diiierent kinds of hairdos. The men are wearing short pants bought at trading posts. One or two old men have the skins of animals carelessly thrown around their bodies. The boys wear a small cloth made from the bark of a certain tree. The women and girls wear leaves or what little cloth- ing their husbands buy them. I am asked why I have come to stay in their village. I tell them I want to see what a native village is like. The capita Chead- inanl sends some of the men to fix one of the huts for me to live in. My boys that brought my food and camp cot are also given a hut. On looking around me at the village, I see ten huts clustered close together with a lane running down the center. Beside the larger huts are small huts to store grain in. In front of each hut burns a fire with native mea.l cooking in it. Chickens and goats are running around and getting into

Page 32 text:

the sea anenomes kept time with their ten- tacles, searching for food with their pul- sating motions. Myriads of tropical fish sailed slothfully by, completely ignoring their visitor from the outer world. The lazy opening and closing of their mouths and the drowsy fluttering of their fins fitted perfectly into Anything There is nothing more beautiful in the world than lovely bells, but there is also nothing more nerve-racking than wild, uncontrolled bells that never cease clang- mg. This particularly tormenting charac- teristic of bells is exactly what one en- counters at Zermatt, Switzerland. There were all sorts of bells-cat bells, goat bells, cow bells, and, especially, church bells. The cat bells are the ones you hear all night long, accompanied by' eerie screech- ings and wailings. The goat bells are heard only at 5:30 a. m. and at 7 p. m., when the small boys run through the one and only street of Zermatt and shout after the goats, which nibble on the red flowers in front of the largest hotel. The cow bells, however, can be heard constantly- that awful jangling Cthough some claim it's musicalb up and down the hillsides at the foot of the Matterhorn. When I Hrst heard those bells, I was humbly thankful not to have to live next to such a racket. But we were not spared, the worst was yet to come! There are church bells clanging all the time. One simply can not escape them. Thetownsfolk start off at 4 a. m. by ring- ing two bells of conliicting tones for fifteen. minutes without a stop. During the week only two bells are rung at a this scene of breathtaking beauty. I had at last discovered a spot left com- pletely untouched by the fast-moving world in which we live. Here was a scene virtual- ly the same now as it was a million years ago. WINI HARPER, '52 but Bells I ' A f ' .2I7.' ' . i 1-4 ' if 'V I ., l V V -1' ' Ivfff' ' Tk L V V. . FQ' ' - , . , 'V -- '59'l.'?.r . ' ' -' :I 'P' . - 'ff-ifv ill-. 'Tia . - I f . . i- . Q va-fl.e.ax,'.i,r,5,..'s'j', 4 gqgifse- . 1 . . , . ---2 . ' CAROL BOURNE, '51 time, whereas on Sundays ten of them clang together. CThere must be sixty, thoughlj All are of conflicting tones and completely inharmonious. These bells are neither musical nor rhythmical. They are simply fierce! The natives of Zermatt must certainly be immune to these bells. I think we were becoming immune to them, too, but not quickly enough. When someone mentions the name Zermatt , most people think immediate- ly of the Matterhorn. But I don't, I im- mediately think of bells. For me, these bells have really become an inseparable part of the character of Zermatt, and even though they nearly drove me crazy, I would, nevertheless, be terribly disap- pointed if I ever learned that these bells had stopped ringing. 4 ' MIGNON LINCK, '52