Perhaps the funniest travel book ever written, Remote People begins with a vivid account of the coronation of Emperor Ras Tafari - Haile Selassie I, King of Kings - an event covered by Evelyn Waugh in 1930 as special correspondent for The Times. It continues with subsequent travels throughout Africa, where natives rub shoulders with eccentric expatriates, settlers with Arab traders and dignitaries with monks. Interspersed with these colourful tales are three 'nightmares' which describe the vexations of travel, including returning home.
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Commencing with the 1930 coronation of Haile Selassie I in Abyssinia, which Waugh attended as special correspondent for The Times, this book covers his subsequent travels through Aden, Kenya, Zanzibar, Tanganyika, Uganda and the Belgian Congo.
There was little description of the coronation, but then Waugh was not far up the foodchain, and perhaps didn't enjoy the best of the hospitality. And yes, his style is pretty typical of the 1930s, seeing the Colonial benefits of Africa and the poor qualities of the natives (and perhaps especially the Indian immigrants), but I didn't find this too excessive.
I did enjoy his writing style, and his condescending wit, his mockery of his fellow travellers is all very amusing.
Some passages I enjoyed:
P61, during a mountainous walk It was a stiff climb; the sun was still strong and the stones all radiated fierce heat. ‘I think, perhaps, we ought to take off our hats,' said the professor ‘ we are on very holy ground.' I removed my topi and exposed myself to sunstroke, trusting in divine protection; but, just as he spoke, it so happened that our guide stopped on the path and accommodated himself in a way which made me think his reverence for the spot was far from fanatical.
P156, in the town of Jinja, which has a golf links: ... is, I believe the only course in the world which posts a special rule that the player may remove his ball by hand from hippopotamus footprints. For there is a very old hippopotamus who inhabits this corner of the lake. Long before the dedication of the Ripon Falls it was his practice to take an evening stroll over that part of the bank which now constitutes the town of Jinja. He has remained set in his habit, despite railway lines and bungalows.At first, attempts were made to shoot him, but lately he has come to be regarded as a local mascot, and people returning late from bridge parties not infrequently see him lurching home on the main street. Now and then he varies his walk with a detour across the golf links and it is then that the local rule is brought into force.
P173, on the train from Albertville to Kabolo: It is perhaps fair to remark that the shower-bath was not, nor apparently had been for some time, in working order; but I have long ceased any hope for a railway carriage that will offer a tolerable water system. It seems to be well understood by carriage designers in all parts of the world that the true measure of luxury consists in the number of unnecessary electric light switches and different coloured bulbs.
