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GERMAN 
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The villagers watched the landing of the strange vehicle with astonishment. Frank politely introduced himself, Florian and 'Old Pluster'. The adults were amazed to see the seaworthy wreck of a car; the children even more so to see Florian. There was a lot of giggling: "What's that? Is it supposed to be a dog? It looks more like an American lady with its mop of blond hair, hihi, haha!" "Mister Frank and Miss Florian" were brought straight into the village with a lot of ceremony and laughter. And right enough: the breakfast they had been longing for for such a long time was ready for them. It consisted of boiled millet with lots of fresh milk, sugar cane syrup and peanut butter. While it wasn't served on a silver tray as on the other side of the Atlantic, it was a sort of picnic, as it is an African custom for the community to feed guests in the open air. A banquet was what our two were given: curious housewives came from all corners of the village carrying dishes and pots full of delicious food, so that the meal lasted longer and longer and turned into a party. Frank spent the whole morning studying his hosts in wonder and some amusement. Perhaps this was a mild form of revenge for the way they had laughed at Florian. He knew from school that many Liberians were former black American slaves who had been given their freedom or descendants of those slaves. And indeed some of the more elegant people whom the village pastor had summoned via the bush telephone behaved very much like Anglo-Americans. The ladies strolled around in fashionable white smocks, smoking cigarettes and carrying parasols; the gentlemen wore straw hats and sported walking sticks. One of them even turned up in a most elegant striped morning suit wearing a dark grey top hat. This gave rise to some hilarity, the others waving their sticks and dancing around him, laughing at the top of their voices. Indeed every second step they took was a dance step. When the gentleman with the top hat asked Frank what his plans were, the young man felt he was an experienced globetrotter and casually said something about crossing the Sahara. Thereupon the gentleman offered to help him to get hold of petrol and food supplies. However, for his services he expected to be taken along. "To judge by the way he's dressed, he will be anxious to get to Europe quickly for the races and to either go to Ascot or Baden-Baden", Frank thought ironically, but then he added philosopically: "Wanderlust is irresistible and can take hold of anybody." The desert had always fascinated Frank almost as much as the sea. So off he went to the Sahara, as he had been given the opportunity! The car was repaired and the journey continued with the top-hatted gentleman sitting on the back seat. 
They travelled through Samory, Segu and Massin; there they crossed the Majo Balleo and had arrived in the southern part of the Sahara. A very old Moslem came towards them out of an oasis; in one hand he was carrying a staff, but in the other a large can of petrol. What extraordinary coincidences there are in the world! How did this old man know that "Old Pluster" needed more fuel? Frank took a closer look at the weathered Bedouin and thought for a moment that he was looking at "Ahasver", the Wandering Jew, who has been travelling across the sands for thousands of years. This old man must surely be familiar with the secrets of the desert."Is there a special place of interest here which the ordinary traveller to Africa would not have seen?" Frank inquired of the Moslem. He sat down crosslegged and talked of the "magic of the Sahara". "Over there, in the middle of the vast desert," he began in a broken voice, "where the sun rises up from the earth, there lies a city of marble, gold and diamonds. The Fata-Morgana has often revealed it. It is ruled by a young queen with skin like black velvet, the like of which has never been seen before. This city is the sacred shrine of the desert. Many have sought to find it. In vain! Nobody has ever surmounted the dangers."
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