Down by the grey-green river where the women beat and pounded linen in the clear running water, there was talk of little else. Their husbands and brothers and sons would see the circus. They themselves, being women, could not go. But that did not prevent their being intensely interested in the coming event.
“It is said they be in league with the Evil One and thus it is they can walk in mid air,” said one woman, busily wringing out a dark blue strip of muslin. “Allah send that our menfolk come to no harm in going to see them.”
“It is truly spoken,” the others answered, and there was a pause for a moment in the unceasing chatter, whilst a passing breeze stirred the palm leaves in the oasis across the stream and set the sandy soil whirling in small eddies.
It was a day in mid-January and already the almond blossom was beginning to show a delicate flush among the palm stems, and the naked grey fig trees were putting forth small emerald leaves. On the wide seashore the waves were coming in gently, pushing a ring of creamy froth ahead of them, and there was a softness in the air and a greater warmth in the sun’s rays. The short African winter was almost over.
As the evening drew on, flaring naphtha lamps made a blaze of light at the entrance of the circus tent, and hours before the entertainment was to begin a crowd began to collect, the more fortunate clutching their tickets, the rest prepared to wait outside through the whole performance on the chance of catching a glimpse of the wonderful sights within.
Darkness came with its usual rush and through the curved leaves of the eucalyptus trees in the hotel garden shone the faint glimmer of stars. As we stepped into the open air the far-off beat of the sea seemed a steady pulse in the night. Our feet fell softly on the sandy road, and ahead of us was the glow of the circus. A packed crowd surrounded it, the light catching on dark faces and flowing draperies. Huddled in their cloaks they were impassive in appearance, but in reality deeply stirred. All eyes were turned to the tent, from the chinks of which came a heartening orange glow that spoke of the hidden glories within, whilst the shaky strains of a band made themselves heard at intervals.