The mosquitoes were bad enough, but the flies were far worse.

Ceiling, walls, and floor were black with them.

One not only ate them with one's food, but they inflicted a nasty, poisonous bite.

As for the smells, they were beyond description; but the fact that a dead camel was slowly decomposing in the immediate vicinity of our dwelling may have had something to do with this.
With all these drawbacks, I was glad to find the population, although dirty, decidedly friendly--rather too much so, indeed; for the little whitewashed room was crowded to overflowing the greater part of the day with relays of visitors, who apparently looked upon us as a kind of show got up for their entertainment.

Towards sunset a tall, swarthy fellow, about fifty years old, with sharp, restless eyes and a huge hook nose, made his appearance at the doorway; and this was the signal for a general stampede, for my visitor was no other than the head-man of Sonmiani--Chengiz Khan.
Chengiz was attired in a very dirty white garment, loose and flowing to the heels, and a pair of gold-embroidered slippers.