-----------------------------------------------------
May 5th, The Grand Zimbabwe, Rhodesia 
-----------------------------------------------------

Paul Chapell sighed, leaned back in his chair, took a long drink of his lemonade and then turned to the man who had joined him at the round table beneath the wide-canopied camel thorn tree. The new arrival was a white man, built like an American Football linebacker, dressed casually in green fatigues with a pistol strapped to his hip.

"You know," Said Chapell, gesturing towards the departing dust cloud. "I don't know what was more infuriating. Now understanding exactly how the first tribesman felt when they met the Europeans with all their pomp and fancy dress, or being questioned about our citizens right to vote from a boy whose father answers to no one but himself. The irony is sickening."

The soldier laughed, a deep rumble of a sound that sounded disturbingly like a lion growling over its kill at times. The security detail who sweated patiently in the sun grinned at the comment. Even the black soldiers amongst them found some humour in the comment. It was true the Rhodesian whites were African, they had been born on the continent, married, raised cattle, fought for it, and now they wanted their own piece of it. 

"I suppose we expected to much from an entitled brat then." Commented Colonel Byron Starr drily as he poured himself a glass of the lemonade. "There are one to many Emperors on this continent."

Chapell nodded and dabbed at the sweat that was beading his brow. "Yes, well, not much we can do about it in the end. We need the African Congress if we wish to receive any legitimacy in the eyes of our neighbours. Britain may support us but that smacks of colonial overtones to the rest of Africa."

Outside observers had always mistaken the Rhodesian state as a desire to keep the Empire alive when in fact Rhodesians no more wanted to be a part of the British Empire than the people of India did. The declaration of independence had been so cooly received around the world that Rhodesia had had little choice but to remain amongst the Commonwealth of nations in order to have some form of international trade. 

As it was, observers had been forced to concede that Chapell was doing his job well. The white minority had retained their iron grip on the country even as he had granted virtually equal rights to the black population. There was no unfair taxation anywhere within the state and while blacks could not vote or hold any public office, they were not prevented from voicing their opinions and having their concerns heard. In many ways it was quite similar to how Islamic Caliphs had ruled Spain for nearly a thousand years as a minority amongst what could have otherwise been a very hostile population. 

Sure, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Some folks got uppity, remote Police stations and farms faced attack from time to time but the Security Forces had become quite adapt at rooting out and eliminating those threats. All in all it was a pretty decent time to be a Rhodesian, white or black. 

"Do you think they will support us?" Asked Starr as he drained his glass.

"I do. Not because they like us but because, and lets be honest, they need us. That boy might not see it but the Ambassador understands. Africa is a mess and we are one of a handful of states that has stability and some semblance of prosperity. I flatter myself that I can take some credit for that."

Starr nodded supportively. Paul Chapell was many things to many people but no one, not even his most bitter rivals, could accuse him of corruption or opulence. He lived on a frugal salary, as did all of his ministers and government officials. They were not wealthy, nor were they struggling, they were quite simply comfortable. 


"Time will tell. I will meet with their ambassador when I return to Salisbury. I am sure he will feel the need to do some damage control. Only a fool will think that meeting went well."

Starr nodded and stood as the President did. He waved a pair of servants forward and they quickly took the table and chairs down as the President and his entourage climbed into another column of waiting landrovers. Engines roared, dust flew, and in a moment the Great Zimbabwe was alone once again.