[centre][h1][u][colour=FF8430]Democratic Alliance for Reform[/colour][/u][/h1]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/bXnqR2b.png[/img][/centre]

Samuel Bassong was just barely Samgolan. His father, Emmanuel—an educated man born to a wealthy family in Kamidye—had moved young Sam to the United States as a child, along with his wife and the boy's younger sister. The Bassongs lived a prosperous life as a well-off African-American family, their father's medical expertise earning them a slice of suburban bliss in the outskirts of Houston. Each of the Bassongs was a model of Americana, a perfectly assimilated and successful immigrant; Sam and his sister, Stella, were model students, and the pair's mother, Rose Bassong, even proudly strided the way as a working black woman once her children had graduated, taking on a high paying government job her husband's strings had helped her find. Stella, always a fashionable and athletic young woman, followed in her mother's footsteps as a trailblazer and became a prominent fashion model, once again leading the way for women of her background. For Sam, though, even greater heights were on the horizon. He became an alumni of TSU, a prestigious Texan university, and then chose to pursue a life in politics.

He was swiftly disappointed with his prospects. The American political scene was highly entrenched on partisan lines, and Samuel, though his family was wealthy, had no strong personal connections to anyone that was already on "the inside". After years of work as a municipal assistant, the most that the ambitious Mr. Bassong could do was make himself a city councillor: hardly a role that satisfied Samuel's grand intentions. In his efforts to achieve even such a meager position, however, Samuel did find himself some connections. His ward had an abundant immigrant community, among them several Samgolans like himself. Samuel Bassong's name became well known in the Samgolan émigré community, and he came to represent not only his own ward as councilor, but also Samgolan-Americans as a whole. This set the stage nicely for the beginning of the Samgolan Civil War, and Samuel's involvement in it as the symbolic leader of the émigrés.

When the shots of revolution were first fired in Samgola, Samuel knew about it even before Western media did. His connections in the émigré community had contacts in Kamidye and all throughout the rest of the country, and they personally witnessed and relayed to Bassong directly the chaos unfolding in the streets. Sam was quick to act, eagerly accepting interviews on CNN and FOX to share his second-hand accounts with the American public and become the international face of Samgola as the government fell to disarray. Resigning as a lowly city councilor, Samuel instead banded together with a number of other wealthy Samgolan emigrants to create a new political entity: the Democratic Alliance for Reform. Instead of pursuing a political career in America, Bassong instead envisioned himself as a future politician in his birth country. He began to lobby heavily for international intervention in the Samgolan Civil War, accruing for himself a significant following among Samgolan emigrants in the process, even those in other countries. Economic emigrants and exiled enemies of the Rubusana regime alike coalesced under the orange banner of the D.A.R., helping turn the hearts and minds of the West against both sides in the raging conflict. 

As the civil war in Samgola became messier, the D.A.R. was approached by representatives of the CIA. The Bassong family, led by Samuel after Emmanuel's death, was seen by the American intelligence community as the ideal candidates for leadership in Kamidye after the war's end. Samuel's ambition quickly turned him in favour of the idea of collaboration with the CIA, but the rest of the D.A.R. was more hesitant. Ephraim Yombi, a recent and prominent émigré from after the war's beginning, worried that seeing to be too closely aligned with Washington would turn the Samgolan people against both the D.A.R. and their pro-Western ideology. He successfully counselled Bassong to refuse to participate in any violent or illicit activities, and so the D.A.R.'s connection to the American government remained limited to funding of party activities outside of Samgola. This would continue for some years, keeping the D.A.R. well provided for and acting as the primary mouthpiece of Samgola's emigrant community, up until near to the war's end.

Bassong returned home to Samgola in 1993, tagging along with the international task force sent in to pacify the country. He and the rest of the D.A.R.'s leadership, Ephraim Yombi among them, quickly gathered together to reorganize their organization as a formal Samgolan political party. Samuel Bassong was acclaimed as leader, and the party immediately set to work on his presidential bid. With many of their American-provided funds going towards simple tasks such as acquiring residences for the returning emigrants, the party's financial advantage quickly lessened; by campaign's start, their funds were estimated to be roughly equivalent to those of their rival parties. Still, the émigrés were energized, those among them with long histories in adulthood overjoyed to be back in their homeland, and those—like Bassong—who had left in their childhood, eager to attain new power in the old country. The stage was set, thanks to Western intervention, for a new future for the Samgolan Republic; 'President Bassong' sure had a nice ring to it.

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Ephraim looked out the window into the modest skyline of Kamidye. The apartment complex the D.A.R. had established themselves in was one of the tallest buildings in town, yet still felt small compared to the great skyscrapers of the country so many of its inhabitants had just left behind. In his childhood, this city had always been the most amazing sight in the world to Ephraim, the shining capital on the horizon, proudly demonstrating the majesty of Samgola. After living a few years in Houston, it suddenly seemed much less impressive. The tallest towers here would be meager office buildings back across the Atlantic, and what had once seemed a monument to Samgola's greatness, now looked more like evidence of its mediocrity.

"To be fair," Samuel said, walking up from behind Ephraim and joining him in gazing out the window, "the war probably didn't help."

Ephraim grunted, his eyes drifting past the skyline and onto the horizon. Somewhere in that direction was his hometown, the Djidani village he hadn't been to in nearly four years. He had been lucky enough for his immediate family, his wife and children, to escape with him. He still hadn't heard from any of the rest of them. They'd probably fled out west, to his uncle's town in Bourem, back in Soussiam province, where most of Ephraim's tribe had always lived. The militias here in the south hadn't treated Muslim families well; the impetus for Ephraim's flight in the first place. The militias out along the western border, in contrast were mostly Islamists. Another foe for Ephraim to fight, now, but at least they'd kept his family safe while he was out of country. The Yombi were devout, and for all Ephraim knew, some of his cousins might well have joined them. He hoped they yet drew breath.

"They're fine. They'll get back in touch, my friend, you needn't worry." Sam had always been confident, even when he had no reason to be. "Now, let's get back to work, shall we?".

"Sure, sure. Can't keep the country waiting." Ephraim tried to joke, moving back to the table towards the room's center. Four other former émigrés were gathered around it, most of the rest of the newly legalized Democratic Alliance for Reform's leadership. They were using this apartment as their makeshift war room, with a map of the country laid out on the table, and the walls decorated with orange, attention-grabbing campaign posters. It was more convenient to meet here, where each of the new arrivals had decided to settle together, instead of in some office on the other side of town. Besides, it was near to the airport and the Assembly, in the area of the city the peacekeepers were keeping under closest watch. Safe, convenient, and a great view (if not for there being nothing much to look at). It met all the criteria.

The shortest of the six men in the room spoke up. He sounded like it was his first time ever seeing Samgola, because it more or less was. He could be spotted for a foreigner in a snap, having left Samgola even before Samuel had. His parents were the smartest of the lot of them there in the room, he figured. "We should be putting all of our money and sweat right here, into Kamidye. We've got to try and get our name out in the capital as much we can. Makes no sense to branch out until we've got a solid base to start from."

Three of the others, Yombi's men, the newer emigrants, loudly disagreed. They all insisted that the rest of the country hated the capital. Every vote they'd win from folks here would be two lost in the rest of the country. Each one said they should sent Samuel to their own hometown. Ephraim, for his part, was at odds with both camps. He didn't see any sense in campaigning blind, and neither had Samuel when he'd talked to him privately the previous night. The rest of these men were nobodies; Yombi was far and away Bassong's second in command.

The leader of the D.A.R. spoke up, quickly quieting the rest of the bickering men as he did. They wouldn't have followed him back to the home country if they didn't trust him absolutely. For the émigrés, Samuel was the only one of the lot of them really worth listening to, and they did so attentively. "We're idiots to campaign blind," he started, putting more of a cut into the advice Ephraim had given him earlier, "the smart thing to do is to start polling, get a lay of the land. Most of our funds were depleted in establishing ourselves here, but we need to leverage everything we have left." Bassong found an empty place next to the table and grabbed an orange marker, encircling six states, spreading all across Samgola. He then turned to his second-in-command, engaging him confidently. "Ephraim: get in contact with our American friends. Have them assist in the logistics for this—it's going to be quite the undertaking. I want this information as soon as possible. We need to know what we're up against here."

Yombi grabbed the map, and smiled as he looked over the highlighted states. Bourem was one of them. He understood the gesture well: Bassong was granting him permission to accompany the party's pollsters to his family's likely new residence. He gave an appreciative nod, and hurried out the door. Samuel was certainly right about one thing: this was going to be a hell of a process.
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[hider=Week 1 Election Actions - Democratic Alliance for Reform]
[b]Poll:[/b] Kamidye, Ayoullo, Guiniadio. [i](-1 Energy, -$25,000)[/i]
[b]Poll:[/b] Bourem, Mutasa, Bimari. [i](-1 Energy, -$25,000)[/i]
[b]Prepare for Debate:[/b] Week 5. [i](-1 Energy, +5% Starting Support)[/i]
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