Night fell moonlessly.

The instatement ceremony I witnessed in June 1994 was among the more significant events that would mark the transition of this young prince toward the status of a newly established ruler, or ampanjakabe.

“That's only dirt—it will brush off.” But he looked at me with his haggard hopeless eyes and said— “It is mud. Black, slimy, horrible mud. I am defiled.”

The moment had come for the honeyed word. I lowered my voice to a confidential murmur, but on her inquiring if I had laryngitis raised it again.