| The waiter... was a simple, placid boy and he smiles
easily. He thought he had understood the order, but he came back
and asked them to repeat it. One of the men went over it slowly,
in French. His companion turned to me.
'Lui,' he pointed at the waiter. 'Lui, il ne comprend pas. Il est sous-developpé parce qu'il a été né dans la zone britannique.' The waiter came from West Cameroon, which was once a British Protectorate. His face puckered with furious concentration. He looked along his biceps muscle at the tray with empty glasses on it. He grinned. And the grin grew and grew and the red light caught his teeth and made them glow. 'Sir!' he said to me. 'Dis people dey be fashun no fine. Dey was fashun by de Frenchman and dey hab no mannars.' Bruce Chatwin (1989, p.43-44): The Song Lines
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