---------------------------------------------------- [u][b]Late July: Swahili People's Republic[/b][/u] ---------------------------------------------------- [indent][i]"The world complains at what happened in Mombasa! Where was this clamor when the legions of Europe ravaged Africa? Where were the shrieks of the moralists, the condemnations of the [i]Ostkaiser[/i]? Why is it we who have been handled with injustice must walk meekly like children when enemies of the revolution resist? If there is not justice for all, there is no justice at all, and no wrong can be done by the warriors of a better world!" [/i] [/indent] The voice came wrapped in static through the cockpit radio. Murungaru grinned. It was a familiar voice, the deep dramatic roar of Chairman Lutalo, coming over the airwaves from Revolution-Town's own tower. Finally, after a long time in Kisumu, Africa's red army was coming home. Lake Victoria spread out forever under the three big-bellied seaplanes, Chinese made [i]Féi é[/i]. These were the largest prop planes Murungaru had ever seen, more like airships in size. They produced a deep-throated bumblebee hum that pervaded their steel fuselages. The outsides were scrappy and dented, save for the massive red stars on their sides, and the communist graffiti covering their easy to reach underbellies like barnacles do on ships. They were so large that the cockpits could fit several dozen people. Murungaru stood next to Li Huan, behind Agricola and his co-pilot, watching with arms crossed. The radio was completely swallowed by some unintelligible message, a static stew. "Look!" Li Huan shouted. Her stiff Houist uniform made her appear younger by contrast, and her voice was high pitched and bubbly. "Land!" "That's the city." Agricola agreed. Murungaru saw it, a pearl on the horizon guarded by swampy islands. Agricola grabbed the radio's microphone. "Revolution Town, this is Red Leader, code 1917, are we clear to land?" There was a pause. "Yes [i]Bwana[/i]. Welcome home!" Agricola nodded as if the man on the other side could see him. "Reds, we are coming in. Let's bring these fat birds down one at a time, comrades. One at a time." A pause. "Red 1 copy that, comrade." "Red 2 copy." The propaganda radio came back, now playing music. Murungaru smiled when he heard an American song, one he recognized from a record collection they'd taken in Mombasa. He'd sent it ahead on a small plane loaded with special loot, a first taste of conquest for Revolution-Town. It was played now as if Communism had liberated it, made this music its own, another thing saved from those coastal ruins of capitalist decadence. [indent][i]"Come on over baby Whole lot of shakin' going on"[/i][/indent] "We're bring her down. Sit down, hold on." Agricola's German-accented English sounded thicker than usual. Everyone obeyed. [indent][i]"Yes I said come on over baby Baby you can't go wrong"[/i][/indent] "Here we go." the vessel rattled as it descended, steel chattering. Murungaru doubted whether it was safe. Everyone looked quietly at one another, hands wrapped tight around whatever they could grab. [indent][i]"We ain't faking Whole lot of shakin' going on"[/i][/indent] The craft shuttered as they powered down and came closer to the water. Agricola guffawed. "Landing on smooth water is dangerous. But good thing for us, these things won't let the water be smooth." [indent][i]"Well I said come on over baby We got kickin' in the barn"[/i][/indent] "Why is smooth water dangerous? I thought that was good." Li Huan yelled. Her small voice barely overcame the engines. [indent][i]"Come over baby Baby got the bull by the horn"[/i][/indent] "When the water is like a mirror you can't see where it is, just the reflection of the sky. But look." They all looked out and saw how the plane's massive propellers disturbed the lake below them, sending white sheets rippling toward the shore. Tan Egyptian geese took flight in every direction escaping this new monster bird. [indent][i]"We ain't fakin' Whole lot of shakin' going on"[/i][/indent] They came closer, and closer, the engines slowing down more. They seemed to hover over the water for a good long while. Then, all at once, the craft shuddered worse than before, skipping over the water, helping to slow it down. They felt as if they were being jerked forward. Steel whined. [indent][i]"Well I said shake it baby shake I said shake it, baby shake I said shake it, baby shake it Said shake, baby shake Come on over Whole lot of shakin' going on"[/i][/indent] They came to a stop in front of the marble walls of Revolution-Town. It was a strange sight, like a theme-park version of ancient Rome, a manic cluster of gleaming white buildings crammed into a square mile or so on a peninsula guarding the bay into Kampala. It'd been rushed together in that sweet grace period when the revolution was at its zenith, before the Anarchists and Reactionaries rended everything apart and brought civil war to the People's Republic. On some of the marble was painted the faces of great revolutionary leaders: Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, Hou Sai Tang, James Lutalo. These faces were tarnished by the spray from the lake, and from the hot African sun, but even though they were pale and chipped in some places, they still looked on, watching the southern horizon with determination, perhaps looking out for lake-born reactionaries. There were opening in the walls that led to the beach, places where floating docks jutted out. Those places were crawling with people, pushing out trawlers and boats and make-shift rafts, ready to receive what the pregnant-bellied seaplanes birthed. They were drifting now as the plane turned around, facing the direction it came, it's comrade planes circling above. "We must thank Comrade Hou for the seaplanes." Murungaru said dispassionately, turning to Li Huan, her wide eyes and wider smile warming his heart. "What is the first thing I should see?" she asked. "What?" She blushed. "I'm sorry. You think I'm silly, but... this is just so magical! A city in the jungle!" "Let's go see it. I'll tell you what to look for." he said. She went in front of him, following the pilots. They walked out onto the wing, stepping carefully on the slick steel surface. A seaplane circled above while another lowered for a landing, creating two conflicting droning roars that drowned out all other sounds. The lake gave off a wet, fishy scent. Below, boats and rafts took to the water, piloted by casually uniformed soldiers and men in civilian dress, moving like sharks in the direction of the hatches. A rope ladder was thrown down, hovering over a small boat. They descended. Work began immediately. Soldiers hiding in the hold of the craft joined their lake-born comrades in unloading the loot. There were crates, and piles, and bundles, and boxes. The larger items, mostly furniture or vehicles, were carried out one at a time. A [i]Handwerker Familienwagen[/i] was pushed onto a log raft by a half dozen people, the raft bobbing back and forth, nearly tipping and taking the car with it.. Murungaru saw that the ocean spray had power-washed away the graffiti from the fat gut of the plane, leaving only smears of paint and the dripping communist star. "Look!" he heard Li Huan call out. He looked up and saw who had captured her eye. Standing at the edge of the docks was the figure of Chairman James Lutalo, the sun gleaming off his polished breastplate. Murungaru felt about this reunion the same way the working man in the trap of capitalism must feel when coming back to their exploitative boss. It was the price he had to pay. The price of revolution. Lutalo saluted as the second plane slowed to a stop further down the coast. With a megaphone, he accompanied the salute with a familiar hymn. "Arise you people from your slumbers Arise you prisoners of want." Lutalo didn't really sing, more like barked, but the soldiers drilled to this song did sing it, belting it out in manly voices like a warcry. [i]"Humanity in revolt now thunders! Now ends the age of cant! Away with all your superstitions! Enslaved masses arise, arise! We’ll change all the bad traditions! And fight the dust to win the prize!"[/i] At the refrain, everybody joined in, and the entire lake rang with voices louder than the third plane touching down behind them. [i]"So comrades, come rally! And the last fight let us face! The Internationale unites the human race!"[/i] There was a cry, shouts and ululations, celebrating the song as if by merely singing it caused everything it it's lyrics to have already happened. The singing stopped just as they reached the mossy edge of the dock. "General Secretary Murungaru! The people welcome you!" Lutalo bellowed. "They honor me." Murungaru replied. They were brought up onto the dock, Lutalo helping them personally, big hands pulling them up one at a time. "I am humble to meet you, great Chairman Lutalo." Li Huan bowed. Lutalo, standing nearly twice as tall as the slender Asian, seemed to inflate at this greeting. "Revolution-town welcomes you, little prize." The Chairman said. They walked into the compound, along a path of stone. "There is not a thing like this in China." Li Huan complimented. "You like it? It is the vision I had for the people, and the people have made it so." Murungaru felt burning jealousy in that moment, and that jealousy chipped away at the edifice of Revolution-Town Lutalo was so busy praising. He saw how the buildings seemed compact, sort of squeezed together and stunted in side as if they were miniatures of real monuments. He saw the Parthenon-style structure called the Temple of the People's Will, which Lutalo had ordered constructed out of limestone and white dalati marble, but when it turned out not white enough to his liking, he had the beautiful stone whitewashed, the paint now chipping on the humiliated edifice. "These are the homes of our most important party members." Lutalo pointed to a row of six colonial style homes. "Mine is the second from us." Murungaru interrupted, placing his hand on her shoulder. "If you go there, I will be with you soon." "I want to see more!" "Soon, little prize." Lutalo interrupted, "But there is important business for us to conduct." "I'll take her." Agricola said. Murungaru nodded and watched as the aging German led the beauty away. "Murungaru, I sensed you were worried I would take your girl?" Lutalo teased. "You have sensed the wrong thing, Mister Chairman. I am only wondering now what business you are talking about." Lutalo went from playful to somber. "Come then and follow me, Mister Secretary. We have bad news. I don't want to tell it, but you have to hear." They went inside Senate of the People's will, a compact and rather bland romanasque building who's only outstanding features were its dome and a number of inexplicably placed carvings of laurel sprigs. Inside was no bigger than a classroom, designed as a stepwell of stone benches leading down to a likewise stone podium. It all was the same color, an image harsh on the eyes broken only by the red ceiling with its Houist star, and broken by the solid figure of Paulo Madada, party treasurer, standing near a bench. "We are all here together!" Lutalo announced, "The great brains of revolution, eh? This is good. We have a problem to work out." Lutalo pulled a charred piece of wood from a holster Murungaru had assumed to hold a pistol. "This is a gift our enemy left for us." he slammed it on the bench, leaving a black charcoal smear. "You carried that thing with you?" Murungaru asked, "What kind of joker do you think you are? We did not need a show!" "Shush, mister Secretary." Lutalo said. "This was left behind by the Freedom Army of God. They burned the village of Nabiswara, and they crucified all of the Muslims they could capture and sent everybody else fleeing. Three revolutionary soldiers were murdered." Murungaru said nothing. He felt like he'd been shot in the gut. "This is the second raid the Freedom Army of God has conducted south of the Victoria Nile." Madada added. "Why would they be so aggressive?" Murungaru finally said. He felt himself going hot. He wanted to march out now, to bring war to the religious freaks. Lutalo seemed to catch Murungaru's flaring temper, as the Chairman's eyes lit up too. "Our enemies are becoming one thing. If we wait too long to destroy them, they will overpower us." Lutalo said. Murungaru slammed a fist onto the nearby stone bench. It made no sound. "This is what comrade Marx warned us about the anarchists. They have no theory. They will fight everything we do and destroy the revolution!" "Are we so certain Hondo-Demissie has anything to do with this? It could be a coincidence." Madada warned. "Perhaps it is a coincidence, though I doubt it is..." Murungaru said, "But what does it matter? Either our enemies are working together and Hondo-Demissie has betrayed the revolution, or they are not working together but Hondo-Demissie is looking the other way as reactionaries do great murders. In both situations the answer is the same. Our enemies must be destroyed! We marched on the white people in Mombasa, though they had many friends and the world was against us, and we wiped their fortress from the face of the earth..." "Fine work." Madada said "The world hates us for that. They point and say 'look, they are communist and black so they are savage, and this proves it!'" "You do not have the balls for revolution!" Murungaru shouted. His voiced echoed through the small marble room. "Let us not fight each other." Lutalo said, "We do not need this sort of thing, no? I agree with Murungaru. We need to destroy our enemies. But our enemies are crafty. It will not be an easy war." "The problem is at the source." Murungaru said. "The Freedom Army is evil, but it will crumble. The real evil is the anarchists. We must focus on Marcel Hondo-Demissie. We must destroy him and unite the left! Then the reactionaries will fall." "I would like revenge for what they did to me at the Nabakazi river." Lutalo smiled, slapping Murungaru on the back, "I was hoping that was what I would hear! Come then. Madada, do we have a unanimous agreement?" Madada shrugged. "I have a feeling this is an incomplete plane. But you are the warriors, so I bow to your decision." "Let's wipe that little booger out of the jungle then, eh?" Lutalo laughed. Murungaru said nothing. His blood was hot. He wanted to go back to his home, to find Li Huan, and to have her like he'd never had a woman before. He wanted this so bad he was nearly shaking. After that, it would be time to plan a war. Then something came to mind. "Yes." he said, "I know the tools to do it. There is a friend to the revolution..." he paused for a second, "There are medicines that make warriors fight like supernatural things. I know how to get them."