Sunlight That Kills.

Hokitika Guardian, 29 December 1921, Page 1

Sunlight That Kills.

By Moore llitchie. Author of “A Woman of the Desert.” In the tropical bush desert, the sun can kill you in a matter of minutes—fatally impairing your nerve system and your mind. The. nomad of the desert goes about without head-cover; when he does wear it- is onlv for ornament or to keep him a. hit cooler. IDs light turban., worn by you, would lead to the most serious illness or death. . The European protects hitnsell against the sun in the desert there— , the same sun that makes summers like the last a goldon dream by seashore or in country land m Old Kngland—as carefully as tho invalid in o',* latitude wraps himself against a chill on a severe winter day. With the same care, though in different fashion. Tho feet, legs, and lower body, m hoots, leggings and light short trousers, look after themselves; it m the parts where the sun can do no vital dm lingo that need fie hack is protected by a wide, thick spinepad. lined in strong red—the colour that counteracts the deadly ' Jot” rays. The efficient helmet has a large red-lined Hap covering the hack of the neck-another vulnerable spot and the helmet itself, thickly made, and domed high to leave space between the interior and the top of tin head is also heavily-lined with red. Some, cheap gear often, are lined with fancy green and other colours. Red is the only colour-security against even headache in the hotter hours of th shadeless hush of the Equator. _ ' There is one time, however, during which man. of whatever race or howsoever clothed, must in the real bush desert give way before the almighty power of the sun-the three midday hours. , , , Inside the double roofed canvas tent set up an hour ago the white oihma his midday meal of beef and tinned vegetables just finished, wipes Ins hrow and. removing boots and leggings, Stretches out on the ramp bed close by. Weariness is coming over bun alter the long five-hours march from sunrise Do pulls bis helmet ova,- his eyes and drowsily looks down beyond bis nose through the open flap tlic tcn • A strange air of quiet has ( ome over the mhl-dnv camp. Tp till half an hour avo all was the usual tumult and noise that is part of Ids life twice a day when camp “made” camels snarling and bubbling as they knelt to he offloaded-• svees chanting monotonously while at work on the baggage-pickets being posted - servants shouting and whistling. , - NVnv all is changed. Tho profound n'uiet, intensifying each moment, is not merely due to things having settled down. Outside there the squat bush shadows have shrunk to their shortest; the sunlight, yellow all morning has turned a ghastly white. The camp square is deserted; thus.- hushes, each with a hmwn camel-mat slung ovei it, show where the restless figures have retreated awhile. The camels themselves have ceased to stray about; in the thin chequered shade of that grazing thorn over yonder they are standing still save for the (licking of a tail as they languidly chew the cud. Even the hornbill bird melancholy songster of the wilds, has ceased its mournful chant. The last breath of tho morning wind has fainted away; not a twig moves; not an insect’s murmuring note is heard around the shadowless seruh trembling in the haze. Tt is as though the world about were suddenly hypnotised. Tt is. In that pyramid of blinding rays at this hellv of the world all nature is struck in a swoon —the earth, mail, beast and every living thing thereon in the blinding storm of heat and the white horror of the midday sun.