Word: limpopo
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Gifts & Signatures. Lobengula was the last South African native king to fight for his independence. He ruled a territory as large as Finland, bounded by the Zambezi and the Limpopo Rivers. But even in this large and lonely expanse of grassland he could feel the presence of Portuguese, Germans, British and Boers. These white people sent emissaries to his court bearing gifts of champagne, brandy and sovereigns. Afterwards, they always asked Lobengula if he would kindly sign a piece of paper called a "concession." which permitted them to dig in the ground like children, and to open little stores. Lobengula...
...took the prospector to the banks of the Manyanda River, north of Bulawayo. There, on high ground where elephants feed and the waters divide to flow toward the Zambesi and the "great, grey-green, greasy Limpopo River," the rain-goddess showed the prospector a great stone. She rolled away the stone, and entered the cave of Lobengula. With the rain-goddess and the prospector was a Matabele named Ginyilitshe. The desecration of the cave filled Ginyilitshe with fear, and he ran straightway to Bulawayo, to a white man trusted by the Matabele: Arthur Huxtable, District Commissioner for Native Affairs...
...time being, without regard to the political constellation." Root ideas of the plan are those of Geophysicist Hermann Soergel of Munich. A conservation specialist, Herr Soergel points to the "tragic desiccation" of Africa caused by the fact that many rivers-such as the Orange, Cunene, Zambezi, Limpopo-once watered great interior basins, but have gradually gnawed through mountain ridges and now empty into the sea. Herr Soergel would rehydrate Africa by several giant schemes...
Indulgent parents built the Lampoon building so that Harvard's problem children could have the very nicest playhouse in all Cambridge, with towers and Dutch picture blocks and hidey-holes. They filled the nursery with stuffed goosies, Limpopo crocodiles and other whimsey things. Good children should play "I-Spy-the-Ibis" all by themselves and not go annoying busy grown-ups. If there is any more naughtiness, the funny old birds will be locked up for good in Agassiz Museum with the dead mooses...
...Bickford's prospecting camp that Miss Twelve trees goes as housekeeper. Virtuously she makes out the limits of a housekeeper's duties with the aid of a revolver. One fine day, a long-lost lover comes ahydroplaning down the Orinoco, though it might be the "great, green, greasy Limpopo", for all we care. Interest grows as the young man precipitates a triangle and goes slinking around the house at night whispering to the girl. Later, the story outdoes itself by revealing that the hero isn't a hero after all, but a selfish meanie out for gain...