Passant Regardant

Breaking the Ice

BY PETER FLEMING.

HAVE never been much use at what is called Making jj A Good First Impression. This-is partly because, when I am introduced to strangers, I can never think of anything to say to them. I console myself by believing that, in a civilized community, this business of Making A Good First Impression is not nearly as important as people pretend. To fail in it is, though often dis- appointing, rarely disastrous.

It is a very different matter in an uncivilized com- munity—the sort of community in which, as it happens, I shall shortly be making my social debut. I fear that on the members of a primitive and war-like race, who have never seen a white man before, it may be vitally necessary to make a good first impression. It will be no good leaving it to chance. If I do not considerably improve on my normal technique with strangers, I May never see a white man again.

As I have indicated, the deficiencies of this technique are in the main conversational. I am glad to say that I have found the means of remedying them. Before I left England I took the precaution of providing myself with a small pamphlet, compiled by Sir James Frazer, the distinguished author of The Golden Bough. It is called Questions on the Customs, Beliefs, and Languages of Savages. I am pretty confident that it will see me through my difficulties.

. These Questions, their author frankly confesses, " make no pretence to be exhaustive." But they cover so wide a field, and they are phrased with such unfailing courtesy, that I can foresee few contingencies in which I shall not be equipped to broach a. stimulating and apposite topic of conversation.

It is, of course, impossible to predict .with accuracy the circumstances in which my first introduction to these savages will be effected, or the occasion on which the Questions will first be called into play. But I imagine it something like this : It is evening. We are seated round the camp-fire, doing ample justice to a frugal repast of pemmican or biltong, whichever it may be. (In the Great Open Spaces, as you have doubtless observed, meals are never said to be eaten or consumed. They have ample justice done to them.) We are all wearing full evening dress, for these are the Tropics, where a stiff shirt (or White Man's Burden, as it has picturesquely been called) is, of course, obligatory.

Suddenly it becomes apparent that we are surrounded. Dusky forms take shape in the darkness around us. A score of poisoned arrows (more, if you like) are levelled at our breasts. The moment is a critical one.

Rising, I confront the leader of the band. Neither of us has met the other before. He is a stranger, and I can never think of anything to say to strangers. Or rather, I never could. This time, thanks to Sir James Frazer, I am equal to the situation. Playing for safety, I introduce the subject of the weather with No. 318, a simple direct question.

" What do you think about thunder and lightning ? " I ask him, bluntly, yet with nonchalance.

His manner thaws instantly. He lowers his blowpipe and deflates his cheeks. But he is still suspicious. He does not reply.

The weather, as a topic, is by no means exhausted. We have not thrashed it out. Shall I try him with Question 320, " How do you explain the wind ? " No ; safer not. He might riposte with " How do you ? " I choose instead to make a graceful and natural transition to more general subjects.

" Talking of the weather," I say, speaking rather quickly and letting fly Question 413, " when a rain- maker or other public magician fails in the business in which he is employed by the community or by individuals, is he punished ? is he put to death ? "

This is a highly controversial point, and I did well to raise it ; for instantly the faces of the savages lose their hostility in the pleasures of debate, and the threatening circle breaks up into little groups, each of them hot in argument.

They do not, however, forget their captives, and soon we are being marched through the jungle to headquarters, under open arrest. During the brief journey I am at pains to make myself agreeable to the rank and file of our guards. My penetrating, though whimsical, catechism at once mollifies and stimulates them, and soon they are chattering away vivaciously in response to a series of questions—delivered in a definitely man-of-the-world manner—of which Nos. 131, 182, 215 and 237 are fair specimens.

" What is your theory of intoxication ? "

" Is there a period of general licence and lawlessness at the New Year or at any other time ? "

" Is there a club-house for the men to which the women are not allowed access ? "

..;;;` Do. you dance to the moon ? And if so, why ? "

With the leader—obviously a man of character and intelligence—I prefer to touch on weightier issues. We start with superstition—(Q. 329. " Are cleft or holed stones the objects of any superstitious customs or beliefs ? Do you creep through such holes ? And if so, why ? ") We pass on to metaphysics—(Q. 349. " What is the nature of the soul ? Does it resemble a shadow, a reflec- tion, a breath, or what ? ") This last question stumps him, as it has stumped others before him. He frowns. He is annoyed. I hastily lead him back to more mundane matters with Q. 809. " Are any special operations, such as felling timber, planting, sowing, hair-cutting, &c., performed by preference at any particular phase of the moon, whether the new moon, the full moon, the waxing or the wane ? What reasons are given for such preferences ? " This is the sort of question which gives a man a splendid opportunity to win his spurs as a conversationalist, and you may be sure that I display a lively appreciation of the epigrams to which it inspires my captor.

At last we reach the village. We are led before the king for judgement. It is the crucial moment. Our fate trembles in the balance.

The king eyes us narrowly. Ile does not appear to find us attractive. But before he can open his mouth to order our execution I step forward with a winning smile.

" Tell me, Your Majesty," I say (and here my smile is replaced by an expression indicating the most pmfound sympathy and understanding), " tell me, were you obliged to eat any portion of your predecessor ? And if so," (here I throw up my hands in a disgusted appeal to reason and the gods), " what is the purpose of this practice ? "

Luck is with me. As it happens, the wretched man did have to eat a portion of his predecessor. He resented the necessity, and my manner has shown *him that I sympathize whole-heartedly with his attitude on this point of constitutional procedure. Turning, he asks the Chancellor of the Exchequer to go and see if there was any pemmican left over from dinner (or biltong, as the case may be). " Our guests," he says, " will be wanting a spot of supper."

The situation has been saved.

* * A certain amount of care will have, of course, to be exercised in selecting my questions. For instance, one will obviously have to avoid No. 138, " Do you eat your enemies or your friends ? " It will never do to go putting ideas into their heads.