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

Patriotic anthems permeated the conference room at a low volume, filling the empty space left by any lulls in conversation between the milieu of assembled émigrés. There were more than a few locals among them, perhaps as much as half of those assembled having never lived outside Samgola, but it would be hard for them to be unaware that they were in the company of a party elite of emigrants. The lingua franca of those assembled was assertively English, that tongue the leader was most experienced with and preferred to speak behind closed doors. Although, a fundraiser was not technically 'behind closed doors'—the guards at the entrance would be happy to open the doors for anyone that graciously donated to the Democratic Alliance for Reform's efforts to save Samgola. The guards themselves, after all, were not Samgolan. Kamidye was still firmly in the hands of the Task Force Europa, and the international peacekeepers (whom Samuel Bassong had entered into Samgola on the heels of) did not seem at all hesitant to provide security to the D.A.R. Perhaps their commanders were eager to defend the electoral process in this newly democratized state, or maybe they had some personal affinity for the reform mandate of the émigrés. Or, perhaps, Bassong's American friends had ensured he didn't need to waste campaign funds on matters as banal as security.

Among those assembled, milling about in a sea of suits and dresses, was the man himself. Samuel Bassong hadn't yet left Kamidye since he'd arrived in country, seeking to establish himself and his party in the capital before he expanded his brand into the countryside and the more distant provinces. The polls, as far as they could be trusted, showed he wasn't in a bad place to start off. The Samgola Mission for Christ, a socially conservative group, had placed the D.A.R. in the lead in the city. It was a relatively small lead, not half as safe as Mr. Bassong would have liked, but a lead nonetheless. All the better, it was supported both by the Mission and the party's own polling; as tenuous as things seemed thus far, the Democratic Alliance was doing quite well for having just entered the scene. Samuel, and assumedly everyone who had come here to give him money, was sure he could succeed. It was just about making the right choices from here on out, ensuring the people heard what they wanted to hear and had the best image they could of Sam and his followers. Image was ultimate in politics, and Samuel Bassong was nothing if not attentive to his image. Perhaps even more than the urgently needed campaign money, image was what this night was all about.

One of the guests at the fundraiser had a special place in Samuel's heart. His sister, Stella Bassong, a fashion model who still lived in the United States, had flown in for the occasion—and to help facilitate a scheme for Samuel. Attending along with her was her close friend, Divina Kazadi, a relative of a designer that Stella had became acquainted with in the United States. Importantly, though, Divina was not an emigrant, having often left the country for business and pleasure, but having never resided elsewhere but Samgola. A relatively young, pretty and demure young woman, firmly native and established in country, but with some ties abroad, legitimizing any sense of foreignness around Samuel by proxy. She would make an excellent wife, and, she prayed, an even better First Lady.

The whole night, Samuel and Divina stayed close to each other. They seemed to genuinely enjoy each other's company, laughing together and warmly smiling at one another: and as long as that appearance kept up, the truth of their feelings was irrelevant. Stella, for her part, was sure to have the couple photographed liberally. Tonight, after all, would be the night they fell in love at first sight. There would need to be plenty of evidence of their affection tonight if their wedding in the next few weeks was to have the desired effect. The atmosphere, their clothing, the food and beverages they shared and the clearly apparent amorousness they held towards each other was all choreographed, though with enough subtlety to be plausible, even for those party loyalists in attendance that saw more than just the pictures taken. The coup de gras was one last photograph: Samuel Bassong, beaming in his tailored suit, cherry red lipstick stained on his cheek from Divina's kiss. "It was love at first sight!" they'd insist. Very romantic, and very good for PR.

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Some days had passed since the fundraiser. The stage bad been set for Samuel's marriage gambit, but equally important was the money they'd raised from their supporters and patrons. It could have been more, but it was also plenty to suit the party's needs, for now. Their efforts would bear more fruit in the future, Samuel was sure, once the D.A.P. was riding higher in the polls. What they had managed be earn would be set to the task of making that happen. A fraction of their funds were to be spent on a speech, in a public square in downtown Kamidye. A private ballroom was just fine for eliciting cheques from the converted, but preaching was best done to the masses—nothing gathered crowds like a wave of flags and orange party banners, and campaign posters hung down the sides of buildings. Just like the venue, Sam was, of course, well prepared. Assisting him in his talk this time around was Ephraim Yombi, a more recent emigrant from Samgola, and the party's second in command. Having spent more time in Kamidye, and coming from a poorer background than hopeful future president Bassong, Ephraim was more personally in tune with the desires of the people. His presence, setting the tone for Samuel's speech, would also help to diminish any arguments that the D.A.R. only served the interests of the émigrés. Though technically an exile himself, Ephraim had spent much longer inside the country than out, and still had a thick Samgolan accent, among other things.

"Countrymen of Samgola!" he began, holding up his fist triumphantly as he spoke his locally accented Samgolan into the microphone atop the scaffolding raised for the occasion. The orange and green banner of the D.A.R. flew behind him, his form cutting a silhouette against the green rays of the banner's end. Ephraim was a diminutive man, shorter and skinnier than Samuel, but the raised platform hid that well enough, and the cheering crowd below could hardly make out anything specifics of his appearance anyway. That was all well and good: it was Bassong's face with which they needed to be acquainted.

"Citizens of this great city of Kamidye. We, the Democratic Alliance for Reform, come to you today to talk of the problem most near to your hearts. It is an issue that every leader who has ever yet stood before you has FAILED to challenge! And it is the one problem that most holds back this great country, the one God above's favourite country, from achieving the heights it deserves; the heights that YOU deserve, as Samgolans. And here in Kamidye to talk to you about this problem today, is your future President. Samuel Bassong!" Ephraim made a point of raising his first again as he called Samuel's name, and the most zealous of the D.A.R.'s supporters in the crowd joined with him. The atmosphere was intentionally triumphant and populist: the party was not here to be quiet.

As Ephraim moved from the front of the podium, Samuel Bassong took centre stage, already looking as though he was president. Everything about his appearance and demeanor was suave and immaculate, his perfectly tailored suit and designer haircut casting a contrast with the more raggedy, everyday look of Ephraim. Mr. Yombi was who the people were meant to see themselves in: Mr. Bassong was who the people were meant to see their future selves in.

Not waiting for the applause to end, Samuel began his speech. "Citizens of the Samgolan Republic," he started, his tone formal and presidential, "there is no need for me to tell you of the many problems our proud country faces. We have been left in disarray by the regimes of the past, their failures weakening us at every turn, and the brutes and ideologues who call themselves their leaders seeking only to make themselves despots over you—ignoring your needs and your dreams. Ours is a country run into the ground by dictators, stomped beneath the feet of the National Regime and the People's Front, those villains who turned brother against brother for so many years. Yet it is not the state of Samgola today that bothers me, friends. When I look out upon the sea of people before me, upon my countrymen, I do not feel any disappointment. I feel pride! Pride, in the resilience of the Samgolan nation. Pride, in the shackles we have thrown off of our wrists, of the dictators departed. And pride, most of all, in the courage that we have shown in the face of adversity. Yes, my friends, in looking upon all of you, the people, I feel only pride. My disappointment—my sadness and anger and despair—is felt when I look upon the state of the country!".

"Our leaders have made us a nation neglected. Time and time again, they have ignored the ills that most harm the people of Samgola, and most impede our country's economic and social progress. Instead, in their unholy hunger, they have poured every coin they could find into their own pockets. While the mansions of the regime were refurbished," Samuel pointed to the crowd, not missing a beat, "YOUR own homes fell apart. While the luxury cars of the dictator's collection were polished, the roads on which they sped down cracked and fell apart. That problem, Kamidye, most near and dear to you, that my friend and ally Ephraim..." Bassong waited a few seconds for applause to settle after mentioning his lieutenant "...that my friend and ally Ephraim spoke to you about, is the state of our fine capital. Of the urban environments that our people dwell in. Our nation's economy has languished because we have not invested in our cities, in the housing and transportation and basic needs of our own citizens. How can the people of the streets, all of you, be expected to move forward if those same streets on which you trod are crumbling? If cities all across our country are neglected and falling apart? That is the most important issue constraining the economic well-being of Samgola today, friends: our urban centres have been paid no mind by the failed governments of the past, and are suffering for it. A cracked church bell does not chime true, Samgola, nor is the call heard from a mute muezzin. I say to you all that until the physical building blocks of a greater Samgola are put in place, we will not see it."

Pausing to take a drink of water, Samuel went on, as Ephraim approached the podium to stand beside him. "That is why the Democratic Alliance for Reform is committing itself today to renovate the urban environments of Samgola, and fix our country's broken infrastructure." Handing the microphone to his second in command, Samuel spoke one last time. "Ephraim, tell the people of some of our proposed projects that our country most needs."

"Of course, Samuel," Ephraim started, taking the event away with a list of urbanization and industrialization projects the D.A.R. had planned to pass in the National Assembly. Samuel quickly departed, not wanting to make himself a fool calling for a bridge he'd never heard of to be fixed, or a street he'd never rode down to be repaved. Ephraim was better with the specifics: Samuel preferred to stick to the bigger picture. With any luck, leaning on Yombi could ward off allegations of Samuel's disconnection from the country he sought to rule over. His comradery with his Muslim deputy would also ideally keep the city and country's mixed religious communities appeased. For as well as it was to lead the Christian vote, Muslims could vote too. The D.A.R. would need to be strategic to come close to the victory Samuel desired: if that meant sharing a stage, he was happy to do so.
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[hider=Week 2 Election Actions - Democratic Alliance for Reform]
[b]Fundraise:[/b] Kamidye. [i](-2 Energy)[/i]
[b]Speech:[/b] Support Urbanization & Industrialization in Kamidye. [i](-1 Energy, -$10,000)[/i]
[/hider]