The natives are more notable for their industriousness than cleanliness. I cannot pass among them unnoticed because their skin has a deathly pallor, but they will talk to strangers. Many worship a man nailed to a tree, whom they consume symbolically on their holy day. They carry his image as a talisman around their necks, believing this will protect them from evil spirits.
Leadership is poorly developed, and they choose chiefs to make their decisions for them, rather than thrashing out problems in community meetings as civilised people do. Wealth is determined by possession and ritual display of little bits of paper, rather than by the real utility of cattle. I miss the heat of the savannah.