thedestroyer.slavesafari-第1章

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　While　Europe　was　a　collection　of　warring　tribes　and　Rome　merely　another　city…state　on　the　Tiber　and　the　people　of　Israel　shepherds　in　the　Judean　hills；　a　little　girl　could　carry　a　sack　of　diamonds　across　the　Loni　Empire　in　East　Africa　and　never　fear　even　one　being　taken　from　her。　If　she　suffered　an　injured　eye；　here　alone　in　all　the　world　were　men　who　could　repair　it。　In　any　village　she　could　receive　a　parchment　for　her　jewels；　take　it　to　any　other　village；　then　collect　gems　of　exactly　identical　weight　and　purity。　Waters　from　the　great　Busati　River　were　stored　in　artificial　lakes　and　channeled　into　the　plains　during　the　dry　season；　long　before　the　Germanic　and　Celtic　tribes　that　later　became　the　Dutch　ever　heard　of　dikes　or　canals。　Here　alone；　in　all　the　world；　a　man　could　set　his　head　on　pillow　without　fear　of　attack　in　the　night　or　hunger　in　the　morning。
　Historians　do　not　know　when　the　Loni　ceased　to　care　for　their　canals　and　dams；　but　by　the　time　of　the　Arab　slavers；　the　Loni　were　no　more　than　a　small　tribe；　hiding　in　the　hills　to　escape　mass　slaughter。　The　plains　were　death　dry；　the　Busati　River　flooded　at　will；　and　one　in　ten　were　blind　for　life。　The　land　was　ruled　by　the　Hausat　ribe；　whose　only　governmental　policy　was　to　track　down　and　to　kill　the　remaining　Loni。
　Some　of　the　Loni　could　not　successfully　hide；　but　instead　of　being　killed；　they　were　often　taken　to　a　spot　on　the　river　and　traded　for　food　and　a　drink　called　rum。　Sometimes　the　person　who　took　them　went　the　way　of　his　merchandise。　Whole　villages　disappeared　in　chains　to　serve　the　plantations　of　the　Caribbean　Islands；　South　America　and　the　United　States。　The　Loni　were　very　valuable　indeed　because；　by　this　time；　it　had　begun　to　be　written　that　the　men　were　strong　and　the　women　were　beautiful　and　the　race　lacked　the　courage　to　resist。
　In　the　year　one　thousand；　nine　hundred　and　fifty　two；　dated　from　the　birth　of　a　god　worshipped　in　Europe；　the　Americas　and　small　parts　of　Africa　and　Asia；　the　colony　called　Loniland　became　independent。　In　a　stronger　wave　of　nationalism　in　the　1960's　the　colony　became　Busati；　and　hi　a　yet　stronger　wave　in　the　1970's；　it　expelled　the　Asians　who　had　e　with　the　British　to　open　stores；　when　the　lands　along　the　Busati　River　had　been　called　Loniland。
　When　the　Asians　fled　under　the　policy　called　〃Busatinization；〃　the　last　people　capable　of　mending　an　eye　left　the　land　of　the　Loni。　Little　girls　dared　not　venture　into　the　streets。　No　one　carried　valuables　for　fear　of　the　soldiers。　And　high　in　the　hills；　the　scattered　remnants　of　the　Loni　Empire　hid；　waiting　for　a　promised　redeemer　who　would　restore　them　to　the　glory　that　once　was　theirs。
　
　CHAPTER　TWO　
　James　Forsythe　Lippincott　yelled　for　his　boy　who　was　somewhere　in　the　Busati　Hotel；　which　still　used　towels　labeled　Victoria　Hotel　and　still　had　the　ornate　V's　inscribed；　embossed　and　sewn　all　over　halls；　drapes；　bus…boys'　uniforms　and　water　faucets。
　There　had　been　no　hot　water　since　the　British　left；　and　now　with　the　last　planeload　of　Asians　having　taken　off　from　Busati　Airport　the　day　before；　there　was　no　cold　water　either。
　〃Boy；〃　yelled　Lippincott　who；　back　in　Baltimore；　would　not　even　call　a　nine…year…old　black　child　〃boy。〃　Here；　he　was　yelling　for　his　porter。　According　to　the　new　Busati　tradition；　published　the　day　before　in　the　last　edition　of　the　Busati　Times；　any　foreigner；　most　especially　a　white；　who　called　a　Busatian　〃boy〃　could　be　fined　up　to　a　thousand　dollars；　thrown　in　jail　for　ninety　days　and　beaten　with　sticks。
　But　if　you　paid　your　fine　in　advance　to　the　Minister　of　Public　Safety　and　to　the　great　conquering　leader；　Dada　〃Big　Daddy〃　Obode；　who　that　very　morning　had　successfully　defended　Busati　against　an　air　invasion　by　America；　Britain；　Israel；　Russia　and　South　Africa；　using…according　to　Radio　Busati…the　very　latest　in　atomic　planes；　you　would　not　have　to　pay　your　fine　in　court。
　This　process　in　Busati　was　called　pre…guilt　payment；　a　revolutionary　system　of　justice。
　In　Baltimore　the　same　process　was　called　graft。
　〃Boy；　get　in　here；〃　yelled　Lippincott。　〃There's　no　water。〃
　〃Yes；　Bwana；〃　came　the　voice　from　the　hallway　followed　by　a　black；　perspiring　man　in　loose　white　shirt；　loose　white　pants　and　a　pair　of　cracked　plastic　shoes…which　made　him　one　of　the　richer　men　of　his　village　ten　miles　up　the　Busati。　〃Walla　here　to　serve　you；　Bwana。〃
　〃Get　me　some　fucking　water；　nigger；〃　said　Lippincott；　snapping　a　towel　in　Walla's　face。
　〃Yes；　Bwana；〃　said　Walla；　scurrying　from　the　room。
　When　Lippincott　had　e　to　Busati；　he　fully　intended　to　respect　the　proud　African　traditions　and　search　for　old　forgotten　ones。　But　he　found　quickly　that　this　politeness　earned　him　only　derision；　and　besides；　as　the　Minister　of　Public　Safety　had　said：
　〃Bush　niggers　need　beatings；　Mr。　Lippincott。　Not　like　you　and　me。　I　know　it's　against　our　laws　for　a　white　to　hit　a　black　nowadays；　but　between　civilized　men　like　you　and　me；　the　only　way　to　treat　a　bush　native　is　to　thrash　him。　They're　not　like　us　Hausa。　They're　not　even　Loni；　God　help　them。　Just　poor　mongrels。〃
　It　was　then　that　James　Forsythe　Lippincott　learned　of　pre…guilt　payments　and；　as　he　handed　over　two　hundred…dollar　bills　to　the　Minister　of　Public　^Safety；　was　promised；　〃If　any　of　these　boys　give　you　trouble；　just　let　me　know　their　names。　You　won't　see　them　around　anymore。〃
　In　Baltimore；　James　Forsythe　Lippincott　was　careful　to　call　the　maids　by　their　marital　title　and　last　name；　and　to　promote　blacks　to　executive　positions　in　the　family　pany　he　ran；　but　in　Busati　he　did　as　the　Busatians。　It　was　the　only　way　to　get　things　done；　he　told　himself；　and　he　did　not　even　suspect　how　much　he　truly　liked　this　method　of　beatings　and　brutality；　in　preference　to　the　enlightened　Baltimore　way　where　every　problem　was　solved　by　holding　another　seminar　in　race　relations。
　This　was　Busati；　and　if　he　did　not　follow　the　Busati　system　of　beating　bush　niggers；　well；　then；　would　that　not　be　a　subtle　form　of　racism；　thinking　his　American　way　was　superior　to　the　Busati　way？
　James　Lippincott　examined　his　stubble　of　a　beard。　He　had　to　shave　it。　Couldn't　let　it　go　another　day　or　he　might　be　mistaken　for　one　of　the　hippies　who　regularly　never　returned　from　Busati。　In　Busati；　a　man　with　a　clean　shave　and　wearing　a　suit　got　some　respect。　Those　seeking　truth；　beauty　and　a　munion　with　man　and　nature；　just　never　showed　up　again。
　Walla　rushed　into　the　room　with　a　soup　tureen　of　water。
　〃Why　did　you　bring　that　in？〃　asked　Lippincott。
　〃No　more　pots；　Bwana。〃
　〃What　happened　to　the　pots？〃
　〃Liberated　yesterday　by　the　army；　bwana。　So　that　imperialist　aggressors　won't　get　them。　Atomic　planes　e　to　steal　our　pots；　but　our　great　conquering　leader　destroyed　the　attackers。〃
　〃Right；〃　said　Lippincott。　〃A　great　attack　by　imperialistic　nations。〃　He　dipped　a　finger　into　the　soup　tureen　of　water　and　became　angry。
　〃This　is　cold；　Walla。〃
　〃Yes；　Bwana；　no　more　hot　water。〃
　〃You　brought　up　boiling　water　from　the　kitchen　yesterday。〃
　〃No　more　gas　for　the　stove；　Bwana。〃
　〃Well；　how　about　firewood？　They　can　certainly　burn　firewood。　You　don't　need　Asians　to　show　you　how　to　make　a　fire；　do　you？〃
　〃Got　to　go　upriver　for　wood；　Bwana。〃
　〃All　right；〃　said　Lippincott；　annoyed。　〃But　for　every　cut　I　get　from　using　cold　water；　you　get　two　cuts。　Understand？〃
　〃Yes；　Bwana；〃　said　Walla。
　Lippincott　counted　three；　cuts　on　his　face　when　he　turned　from　the　mirror　and　took　the　blade　out　of　his　safety　razor。
　〃That's　six　for　you；　Walla。〃
　〃Bwana；　I　got　something　better　for　you　than　cutting。〃
　〃Six　cuts；〃　said　Lippincott　who　had　intentionally　given　himself　the　last　two　in　anticipation　of　taking　revenge　for　his　disfort　on　Walla。
　〃Bwana；　I　know　where　you　can　get　woman。　You　need　woman；　Bwana；　don't　cut　poor　Walla。〃
　〃I　don't　want　some　little　black　ape；　Walla。　Now　you　have　cuts　ing　to　you　and　you　know　you　deserve　them。〃
　〃Bwana；　you　look。　You　want　woman。　You　don't　want　Walla。〃
　It　was　then　that　James　Forsythe　Lippincott　realized　his　body　was　indeed　calling　out　for　a　woman。
　〃White　women；　you　do　whatever　you　want。　White　women；　Bwana。〃
　〃There　are　no　white　women　available　in　Busati；　Walla。　That　will　be　another　cut　for　lying。〃
　〃White　women。　Oh；　yes。　White　women。　I　know。〃
　〃Why　haven't　I　heard　of　them　before？〃
　〃Not　allowed。　Not　allowed。　Secret。　White　women　at　the　big　house　with　the　iron　gate。〃
　〃A　whorehouse；　Walla？〃
　〃Yes；　Bwana。　White　women　in　the　whorehouse。　Don't　cut　Walla。　You　can　do　anything　to　them　you　want　if　you　got　money。　Anything。　You　can　cut　white　women　if　you　got　enough　money。〃
　〃That's　outrageous；　Walla。　If　you're　lying；　I'll　give　you　twenty　cuts。　Do　you　hear　me？〃
　〃I　hear；　Bwana。〃
　When　Lippincott　drove　up　to　the　large　white　house　with　the　iron　gate；　he　saw　to　his　delight　that　the　windows　held　air…conditioning　units。　Iron　bars　held　the　gray　units　in　place。　If　he　had　looked　closer；　he　would　have　seen　that　there　were　bars　also　on　windows　that　had　no　air　conditioners。　But　he　did　not　look　closer；　nor　did　he　wonder　why　Walla　did　not　acpany　him；　even　though　the　servant　knew　he　would　be　punished　for　just　disappearing　the　way　he　had。
　Lippincott　was　pleasantly　surprised　to　see　that　the　buzzer　button　on　the　gate　worked。　He　tried　it　only　after　he　found　that　the　gate　did　not　open　to　his　pushing。
　〃Identify　yourself；〃　came　a　voice　from　a　black　box　over　the　mother…of…pearl　button。
　〃I　was　told　I　could　find　entertainment　here。〃
　〃Identify　yourself。〃
　〃I'm　James　Forsythe　Lippincott；　a　close　personal　friend　of　the　Minister　of　Public　Safety。〃
　〃Then　he　sent　you？〃
　If　Lippincott　had　lived　a　life　that　exposed　him　to　any　sort　of　danger；　he　might　have　taken　cautioned　notice　of　the　fact　that　in　a　country　where　brass　doorknobs　were　stolen　regularly；　no　one　had　pried　loose　the　little　mother…of…pearl　buzzer　from　that　front　door。　But　James　Lippincott　was　discovering　himself；　and　in　the　excitement　of　finding　that　he　truly　loved　to　inflict　pain；　he　neither　worried　nor　cautioned。
　〃Yes；　the　Minister　of　Public　Safety　sent　me　and　said　everything　would　be　okay；〃　Lippincott　lied。　So　what？　Instead　of　a　pre…guilt　payment；　there　would　be　an　after…guilt　payment。
　〃All　right；〃　said　the　voice　in　the　hollow　raspiness　of　a　speaker　system。　Lippincott　could　not　place　the　accent；　but　it　sounded　faintly　British。
　〃The　car　can't　get　through　the　gate；〃　said　Lippincott。　〃Will　you　send　a　boy　out　to　watch　it？〃
　〃No　one　will　touch　a　car　in　front　of　this　gate；〃　came　the　voice。　The　gate　clicked　open　and　such　was　Lippincott's　anticipation　that　he　did　not　wonder　what　might　protect　a　car　in　front　of　this　house；　when　ordinarily　Busatians　stripped　a　parked　car　like　piranha　working　over　a　crippled　cow。
　The　path　to　the　door　of　the　mansion　was　inlaid　stone　and　the　door　handles　shiny　brass。　The　door　of　oak　was　polished　to　a　gleam　and　the　bell　knob　was　the　crafted　head　of　a　lion；…not　African　lion　but　British。　Lippincott　knocked。　The　door　opened　and　a　man　hi　Busati　Army　whites；　with　sergeant's　stripes　on　his　sleeves；　stood　in　the　entrance。
　〃A　bit　early；　what？〃　he　said　in　a　British　accent；　that　seemed　even　colder　ing　from　his　anthracite　face。
　〃Yes。　Early；〃　said　Lippincott；　assuming　that　was　what　he　should　say。
　The　sergeant　ushered　him　into