The Setting Sun

The Major stood at the entrance to the hut I had commandeered, pipe in hand, wearing his cap at a jaunty angle, which gave him that devil may care look that I’m told is all the fashion back home.

We had just gone over our plans for the future exploration of the eastern hills which we were told harboured great apes the size of the Sergeant Majors wife and similar in appearance by all accounts.

Also to be found in this secret Eden were the inevitable pygmies; these were of the headhunting variety. We were informed that they would boil a man’s head and shrink it. One of the young lieutenants awoke one morning screaming, claiming that he had been a victim of the pygmies. Fortunately for him he had put on someone else’s cap which was two sizes too big for him.

Despite these dark clouds on the horizon, an air of excitement and mystery prevailed amongst the men, for what is life without risk I say. We should push the boundaries of our lives and question what we find, least ignorance and fear prevail.

The Major, absent minded, tapped his pipe out, the hot ash instantly setting fire to the rush matting at his feet. Immediately our local guide ‘Alfred’ appeared and with great presence of mind seized the matting and pulled it from under the Majors feet, in an instant his shirt caught fire and he disappeared screaming into the trees. ‘It’s very dry this time of year’ commented the Major.

The sun was now setting, bringing with it the fiery colours so typical of the African sky the moment spoiled only by a faint smell of singed hair.

One of the village elders in charge of the porters walked up to the hut and spoke to the Major ‘Mr Major Sir, It is time’

The Major turned to me and said ‘Will that be all then?’

‘Yes, I think we’ve gone as far as we can go today’ I replied.

‘And accomplished great things’ added the Major.

Do you know, as he turned to leave, his figure silhouetted by the setting sun, I caught a glimpse of a smile on his face.

The Colonel

In Memory of Stephen Patrick Rooney