The Indians’ engagement with Dublin and its people was by turns philosophical and farcical. They weren’t passive bystanders or mere entertainers—they had opinions and voices of their own, including some fabulously gnomic statements. After a heckler at the back disrupted their favourite eagle dance, claiming that the Iowas were locals dressed up and not a bit like the Indians he had seen in Calcutta and Bombay, Walking Rain stood up, having had this explained by Jeffrey Doraway, their mulatto ex-slave interpreter. The 6ft 6in. Indian drew his buffalo robe round him and spoke out:
‘We are rather sorry for the man than angry; it is his ignorance, and that is perhaps because he is too far off; let him come nearer to us and examine our skins and our noses, full of holes and trinkets—Irishmen don’t bore their noses.’ (Great laughter, and ‘Bravo’)