HUSSEIN THE TALENTED
By GERALD E. SCHLUTER Hussein must have been about 30. He always stated his age confidently if asked, although he admitted he could not compute it to within five years. He was taller and much better proportioned than most of his race. His nickname was Timayere (short hair), but in appearance he often belied it. He spoke a little English and an untold number of native languages—six to my knowledge, twelve according to him. Shortly after his birth his parents had left the tribal area, following the confiscation by the chief of the family wealth—zoo fine ponies—in part compensation for damage to the property of a neighbouring tribe after one of the not infrequent raids. "But there was also a feud between the chief and my father, who was very rich," Hussein will explain, possibly with the object of elucidating the origin of his own natural wealth and talents. So the family came south and re-established itself near the Kenya border.
In the course of a chequered career, Hussein had sampled the spice of life and adopted a great variety of occupations. He was an excellent shot, and " knew " big game. His experience of police work on the Northern Frontier had taught him all about this country and its personalities that he didn't know before, and the methods of ivory poachers. At one point he was conducting parties up Mount Kenya. The advent of the war found him a prosperous merchant with two shops and large cattle interests, none of which prevented him from carrying on his work, that of P.W.D. foreman.
I have dwelt on the more auspicious side of Hussein's career. He obviously found it easier to talk about. That his life-history included more profitable, if less worthy, ventures was clear. Had you ever sought direct enlightenment on the subject, however, I am sure that Hussein would have looked blank and referred vaguely to " business transactions." I heard of one of these from a friend to whom delighted South Africans had exhibited some souvenirs, bought from Hussein at the price of only 7s. 6d. The "souvenirs" were bright new Abyssinian dollars, the pay of our Irregular Abyssinian forces, and bought from them by Hussein at the correct value of rs. 6d. On another occasion, when we had been among the first to enter a hastily evacuated Italian position of some size, I discovered that Hussein had bid fair to corner all the beds they had left behind, considerately selling these to all-corners at ros. a time ; there was no need to ask him why he never drew his monthly pay. To such an individual the gentle practice of gun-running was no trouble at all He actually did a most valuable job of work for the Patriot movement under hazardous conditions and returned to report "All
correct" with the greatest insouciance, refusing to say much about it. Even in this he had probably contrived to incorporate a rake- off somewhere: Hussein was accustomed to accept events with the resignation of the confirmed fatalist. His philosophy was dictated by his experience ; his life was not dictated by a philosophy. He could say, with Seneca, " What Providence has made necessary, human prudence should comply with cheerfully." Thus the unfortunate demise of his younger brother, who was then my personal servant and had fallen off the top of the truck, left him curiously unmoved. In point of fact I, who was not particularly struck by either the character or the ability of the boy, was far more upset than Hussein, who was very attached to him. " Don't worry," he said, " In- shallah! only God decides these things, Bwana. It is written that he should die today. He is dead. It is useless to contest the will God. So why should we mourn him? Besides, I have two or three more brothers still alive, I believe. Of course, if you could help with the funeral party . . . perhaps two fat sheep. . .? "
In Mogadisho later we engaged another boy who held Italian certificates as driver and mechanic. Hussein said I needed a boy- cum-mechanic. We invariably travelled alone and would have found it hard to fit a qualified native driver on the heavily loaded truck even had one been available. In those days the direct Mogadisho- Harar road was not yet closed, but I had been advised to avoid it and travel via Hargeisa in British Somaliland. The tracks in the bush which extends from Hargeisa to the macadamised " Strada Imperiale," some Soo miles to the south were little used or mapped, and I frequently missed the way. We were late, having been delayed en route, so stopped little for food or sleep. The mechanic, perched on the kit behind, went sick very soon and proved useless in either of his two capacities. Hussein periodically dozed, and woke up to recite—to order—long Arabic fables or stories of all descriptions, ranging from tribal history to accounts of his own deeds and mis- deeds, all of which were designed to keep me awake at the wheel. We arrived 45 hours after leaving Mogadisho, the speedometer regis- tering some 900 odd miles, and Hussein informed me that I should need another boy, in a tone of voice which implied that he for one was not surprised. (He never became accustomed to my speed of travel in a country where sensible people invariably hasten slowly.) " Is the other one really sick? " I asked him. " Lucky he didn't fall off, wasn't it? " Wearily came the answer: " I tied him on with rope, Bwana."
I was sorry to lose Hussein. He was an admirable interpreter, an organiser of any sort of scheme on hand, and a good judge of native character. He could adapt the normal Somali flair for intrigue (" The one intellectual cause of African happiness," according to George Steer) to the needs of his job, and had a knack of getting an " inside " story as well as being able to sort out the interesting points from the mass of information and gossip that came his way. Aside from this, and almost as valuable, I counted the asset of his companionship. I last saw him in Nairobi in another branch of Government service for which his talents were admirably suited. In a rash moment he mentioned his recent profits on various enter- prises—a figure which put my army pay in the shade. Yet before we parted company Hussein had made one of his characteristic veiled requests for baksheesh which, for delicacy of phrase and subtle impli- cation without direct reference, could not have been improved on.
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