Samuel took a short sip from a glass of water in the intermission, straightening out some of the papers on the podium in front of him and fixing his tie. When he heard the moderator's question, he gave a little grin. The softballs kept coming. Mr. Bassong was confident he could be forceful here, and build on his previous statements to really sell his case to the viewers at home.
Still lightly grinning, Samuel started his response with a jovial confidence. "Well, I've think you've said it perfectly yourself. Power, clean water and homes. Infrastructure. The war and those who led our country into it helped to tumble down many crumbling buildings and tear apart already shoddy roads and bridges across Samgola, not to mention interrupting essential services like electricity and clean water. The most important issue in my presidency will be the one I've already spoken of: infrastructure, and the need to rebuild and revitalize our urban centres and promote industry to get our workers jobs. I cannot say it enough times that we have to get building, and now! Whether it's pipes or power-lines or roads or apartments, rebuilding Samgola will be my primary focus as President."
Taking a small break, the presidential candidate then picked up again, and in a more compassionate tone. "Second, to me, is being responsive and thoughtful to the people. We cannot have a ruling class of old, retired generals and corrupt bureaucrats that never truly listen to what the citizens of their nation want and need. We have to be transparent—we have to listen to the people, and not only to listen to them, but to really hear what they are saying and act on it. It is time that the people stop being ignored by the elites, and that the elites be made accountable to the citizens: not the other way around. I think this is something that all of us here on stage, and every official, elected or not, throughout the government, absolutely needs to take into account, however this election goes. It's time to stop ignoring the people, for good."
Urbanization & Industrialization and Government Transparency.
This was the question Samuel had most been looking forward to, so much so that he was almost disappointed to have it come so early. Infrastructure policy had been the cornerstone of the D.A.R.'s campaign thus far, and Bassong considered it the party's strongest issue; it had led them from third place to a comfortable lead here in Kamidye, and had hopefully had some positive impact in the country's other major urban centres as well. In truth, it would have been an issue best to have been saved for last, so as to have maximum effect on the (hopefully) listening electorate—but starting right off with it worked well too. If you didn't end on your best foot, you could at least start on it.
"Let me begin by saying that I agree with you wholeheartedly, Mr. Omotayo. The previous regimes, and the candidates here on stage who have been represented in them, have failed our country in establishing the most basic building blocks for a modern nation; our infrastructure is in a shambles, and has been left chronically underfunded for far too long. I'm happy to be the one to tell you that when I am President, and the Democratic Alliance for Reform has a strong position in the National Assembly, we—not only the party members but you and I and all of the working men of Samgola—will be the ones to break this cycle. I will push forward a comprehensive infrastructure renewal program, the 'Brick & Mortar Act', to leverage our country's surplus of workers to fix the basic infrastructure that same working class relies on. I will work with Kamidye's municipal government to increase both the capacity and quality of public transportation in our nation's capital, and repave every last stretch of highway in the country. I will also commit, here and now to both the people of Samgola and to you personally, Mr. Omotayo, that if I am elected your President I will build more housing in my first year in office than my predecessors have built in the last decade. It is long past time that every Samgolan has a home to live in, a job to work at and a way to reliably get from one to the other. These are the simplest problems the Samgolan Republic has to solve, and yet our government has failed again and again and again and again. No more! It is time for a real reformation of our country's infrastructure, and the Democratic Alliance for Reform is the only party on this stage today that will deliver it."
Ephraim Yombi was conducting a press conference in Kamidye, ahead of next week's first presidential debate. The Democratic Alliance for Reform was set to face off against their main local competitors, the Liberal Democrats, as well as the rurally strong Samgola Dawn and the newly coalesced Samgola Patriotic Party. The debate had the chance to be a decisive moment in the campaign, and Yombi had been tasked with setting the stage for Samuel Bassong's return to the presidential capital; any lingering issues were to be settled by him, so Bassong could enter the debates without any baggage. The press conference was being held inside the new D.A.R. headquarters: an office building a few blocks down from the apartment complex that had been used as the party's temporary HQ immediately upon their arrival in country. As befitted a political centre, party banners and Samgolan flags were strewn about every wall and desk, leaving no room to imagine to which party this office belonged. The backdrop of the stage behind Ephraim was itself decorated with both the flag of Samgola and the civic flag of Kamidye, a clear attempt to further bolster the D.A.R.'s already dominant popularity in the national capital.
Questions were already underway. The first had been softballs—easy to answer, generic inquiries about the need for investment in infrastructure and the economy. This was to be expected, as most of the press gathered were of the friendly sort, both foreign and domestic reporters with a heavy pro-D.A.R. lean. Unfortunately for Ephraim, though, the conference wouldn't have been able to perform its goal of clearing the air ahead of the debates if at least a few less partisan outlets weren't invited. Easily the most biting question was saved for last by Ephraim, a reporter from a local outlet in the northwest of Samgola sitting patiently in the back of the room, waiting the entire conference to ask it.
The hot button issue of the past phase of campaigning had been the attacks in Kolodan, inflicted by an Islamist group among the National Militias. The knee-jerk reaction of the émigrés that dominated the D.A.R.'s membership had been to quickly and loudly denounce the attacks, but Yombi had successfully been able to caution silence thus far. He was more in tune with the spirit of the average Samgolan than most of Bassong's men, the less recent émigrés. Ephraim understood what Samuel did not—that the National Militias were extremely popular among many Samgolans, and no action of theirs could be fairly depicted when treated in isolation. The militias represented the Samgolan Republic's sectarian divides, and most of their infighting was the continuation of tribal rivalries that had existed under the Rubusana regime and even earlier. Any denouncement of the Islamic Army would be understood by many of Samgola's Muslims as a denouncement of Islam, and Samuel and Ephraim had agree to cautiously avoid being seen to favour one of Samgola's major religions over another.
Ephraim cut off the reporter just after he'd finished contextualizing his question, preempting an inquiry about what specific steps needed to be taken in response to the attacks. It helped to frame things more in Yombi's favour if the subject was more general.
"Right, right, of course..." he began, speaking into his microphone and drowning out the last part of the reporter's question. "That is an important issue, an extremely important one." Trying to diffuse any tensions that might have been riled by introduction of such a charged subject, Ephraim lightened the room with a joke. "I'm sure you're one of many journalists here in this room who would love to have me talk about such a controversial subject."
Letting a few chuckles across the room cease first, Ephraim then went on. "The National Militias are more rounded a topic of discussion than many of you might have heard or thought. Many of them are violent, and acts of aggression always need to be condemned, but any conflicts going on between the National Militias are part of a larger problem of disunity in Samgola. People don't trust each other. Many villages in the northwest, the homeland of my own family, they do not trust the sometimes corrupted and underpaid and overworked government officials that are meant to be helping them. The militias are local people that help local communities, and that I think is charity. We always need to support charity, just like we always need to condemn aggression. But instead of going up in arms and denouncing this or that attack, we instead need to denounce, and more importantly to solve, the underlying problems that cause these conflicts. People need to have their trust in the government restored after they lost faith in the old, failed regimes, and people need work and to have prosperity or they will continue to turn to anyone who will offer help to them. Samgola is a country that is broken and wounded in many places, and we need to heal those wounds instead of yelling at them for bleeding. That is what I stand for and that is what the Democratic Alliance for Reform stands for, truly fixing what's wrong with Samgola and not just addressing the results of those problems."
Satisfied he'd sufficiently subdued the issue, Ephraim went on, eager not to leave an awkward silence after his remarks. "Any other questions, friends?".
Fundraise: Ayoullo. (-2 Energy) Travel by Car: Ayoullo to Umembe. (-$4000) Travel by Car: Umembe to Kamidye. (-$4000) National Militia: Spin. (-1 Energy)
The war room of the D.A.R. was mobilized, a convoy of orange painted vans bringing party officials from Kamidye out along Samgola's country roads and into the wider nation. The security situation in the Samgolan Republic was deteriorating, but the unrest seemed to be limited in the far northwest for now; Djidan and Nambé were still safe enough for campaigning without a costly guard routine. The convoy was hardly a stealthy target: besides being bright orange, each of the vans was also decorated with motifs of various exciting and eye-catching African animals. Lions, elephants and baboons alike decorated the convoy, and a Samgolan flag flew overtop each of the vehicles, proudly claiming the decorated beasts of the wild as treasures of Samgola. It was a very good thing indeed that they were safe in the southeast, lest some 'poachers' come and skin their cars.
Mr. Bassong's contacts in America had alerted him of a great opportunity shortly before he'd parted for Kamidye along with the international mission that paved the way for the émigrés return to the country. The need to establish the party's foothold in the capital took greater concern initially, but that task was increasingly appearing to be a fait accompli, and the party couldn't afford tunnel vision; they were other opportunities to take advantage of. Environmentalist groups in the West had been petitioning the Rubusana regime for years to establish a wildlife sanctuary in Samgola's extremely biodiverse and highly ecologically threatened southeast. President Rubusana, suspicious of Western powers and their influence in his country, had always refused the international environmental community's proposals, and the war had been an end to the talks seemingly for good. With open conflicted ended, though, the prospective new President Bassong would be a very different man than his predecessor. America's greens had no shortage of funds to sprinkle around Africa, and if the D.A.R. had its way, as much of those sprinkles as possible would land in the Samgolan Republic.
Samuel's task was simple: accompanied by representatives of the Samgola Wildlife Society, he had to sell the idea to the locals of a wildlife refuge in nearby Laja. His advisors, though—Ephraim's people—had warned their party's presidential candidate of the difficulties he might face in his pursuit of the project. Many ranchers in the region used poaching simply to defend their livelihoods, his lieutenants promised him, and areas under environmental protection couldn't be mined or developed by the resource conglomerates of the SSI. Taking any side on the issue would have negative consequences, and, like with Samgola's religious divide, they insisted that the better outcome was to ignore the issue. Samuel trusted and respected the advice of his party's members, and their insight into the locals of a country he was still feeling new to, but he saw a path to power that he knew was too lucrative not to take. The SSI and the odd poacher be damned, Samgola's flag would stay two colours: orange and green. The environmentalists would get their way, and the D.A.R. would throw its full weight behind the Samgola Wildlife Society and their 'Laja Ecological Sanctuary' project. After all, what sort of economical activity would Samgola prefer to be known for: safaris or blood diamonds?
Still, the membership was right about one thing. The party couldn't lose focus on the urban centres, and on the ambitious infrastructure plan they were running on in the big cities. What little funds the campaign had would have to be spread thin, yet again. Samuel signed off on an advertisement campaign in Kamidye, utilizing almost all of the campaign money not already earmarked for the D.A.R.'s mock safari to push the issue of industrialization and urban decay hard in the nation's capital. Taking such a split approach wasn't without risk. Allowing themselves to get so low on funds was a gamble, that could leave them unable to quickly react to any events that might transpire elsewhere in the republic. The leader, though, knew best, and so both plans went ahead. The Democratic Alliance for Reform, and their competitors too, would simply have to be willing to take risks if they wanted to win this election. And after all: what's the worst that could happen in one week?
Create Ad: Support Urbanization & Industrialization in Kamidye. (-$30,000) Travel by Car: Kamidye to Sétenga. (-$4000) Speech: Support Protection of Natural Resources in Sétenga. (-1 Energy Point. -$10,000) Travel by Car: Sétenga to Umembe. (-$4000) Speech: Support Protection of Natural Resources in Umembe. (-1 Energy Point. -$10,000) Travel by Car: Umembe to Ayoullo. (-$4000) Speech: Support Protection of Natural Resources in Ayoullo. (-1 Energy Point. -$10,000)
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.
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.
Fundraise: Kamidye. (-2 Energy) Speech: Support Urbanization & Industrialization in Kamidye. (-1 Energy, -$10,000)
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.
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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