We are on a trek into the deepest jungle, on my quest for the mysterious clitoris, which reliable sources have told me is nearby. I am guided only by Ushkewewe, my faithful tribesman, and his wife. He has sworn to help me at the cost of his life if necessary.  At least, I think that's what he said. All the other tribesmen were laughing so loud I had a hard time understanding the dear fellow.  He's a cheerful one, always fascinated by the strange western contents of my wallet.  I know he'll have no use for it, so I've promised him beads and blankets when we return triumphant.

I am quite fearful. This place is hot, steamy and full of canyons and crevices.  I'm certain the legendary clitoris could not possibly belong here.

At noon we stopped for a midday rest.  I settled within the hastily erected tent, while Ushkewewe and his wife retired to some nearby bushes.  They do not sleep quietly, these Nabubu.  I was kept awake by constant rustling, moaning and wet sighing noises from nearby.  Thus, I emerged unrefreshed, while my guides had a look of supreme satisfaction.  Bizarrely, they insisted on stopping to rest several times a day, which slowed the expedition down considerably.

September 15th, 1933

After six days, we emerged from the dense undergrowth onto a vast plain.  Ushkewewe suddenly cried out, fell to his knees and bowed his forehead to the dirt in obeisance. His wife, however, did not feel the same urge. She merely moved to his side and watched with a smug smile and her hand on her hip.

In the distance loomed the object of Ushkewewe's adoration - an enormous, snow capped mountain, purple in the sunlight and surrounded by luxuriously grassed plains.  In the distance, a great cat roared, adding panic to my growing confusion.

"We are here! We are here!" he cried. "Behold, Mount Klee-toe-rus!"

"But this can't be it!" I said.  "The clitoris is a thing of pleasure."

"And so it is!" said Ushkewewe's wife.  "Look at that beautiful mountain! A shrine to all women. And who could miss it? In our culture, Klee-toe-rus means "unmistakably huge, only idiots can't see it."

I knew then that my search for the clitoris in Africa had gone awry. I gave up the quest and turned for home. I knew I must look elsewhere, hoping to find further clues in America...