“Great view, huh?” came Big Carlo’s voice.
She jolted. The three gods materialized by her side.
“Lee,” opened Fat Frank, “your parents gave their lives to this cause. Yours is about half over. We would return you to your home planet. However, in addition, we would like to grant you a boon in consideration of the critical role you’ve played in convening a hearing on Earth.”
Lee was silent for a long time. “I did not choose to grow up and live on Earth,” she said quietly. “Still, I do not regret it. My life truly mattered. Few can say that. If I am to die now, I am at peace. And yet…”
She breathed audibly. “You said a boon.” She glanced at the three. “Is this like one of those wishes in fairy tales?”
Fat Frank gave her a quick, reassuring smile.
She looked embarrassed, then the words tumbled out in a rush. “I would like to know the life I never had—but not as an aged woman past childbearing years and weighed down by the pain of the world I grew up in. I would like to be young again.” She stopped speaking just as abruptly, cheeks turning red.
Frank asked, “You want to set back the odometer some—and then begin the aging process anew?”
Lee nodded.
Frank looked at Vito, at Carlo, and back at her. “Yes, of course,” he told her. “The memories of your adult years will fade some. Your body will be youthful. The rest is up to you.”
For a moment, the two other gods lowered their heads in farewell and disappeared.
Lee’chelle and Fat Frank contemplated the giant orb underneath as it slowly spun.
“So few lights!” exclaimed Lee.
The god wore a small smile. “It figures. There are only around five million humans down here on Qataria, scattered about in small towns and hamlets.”
Lee felt the excitement coursing through her. Something dormant within her was awakening.
“Well, where do you want to live, mademoiselle?” The god gestured downward. “You can see for yourself. The main settlement clusters are in what you know as Sri Lanka, Madagascar, along the California coast, Fiji Islands, along the coastline of Morocco, Valley of Mexico, Namibia, North Island of New Zealand, Aburrá Valley in Colombia. And then there is the Australian continent. As you can see by the dots of light, the tropical savanna and woodlands of northern Australia have the largest number of population clusters. Take your pick from these—or from any of the solitary communities that dot other regions.”
“The grasslands of Africa and North America are totally dark,” she observed. She wanted to stay up there with him a bit longer.
He bobbed his head. “People here tend to keep away from the major grassland regions, where tigers, lions, and leopards reign supreme. Some of those lion varieties are not what you saw in a safari in Africa; they are bigger, and the prides are larger. Packs of dire wolves are no laughing matter, either.”
When the eastern seaboard came over the horizon, she pointed. “No Chicago or New Jersey.”
Frank shrugged. “Ever been there in the winter? Fucking miserable. Why would anyone want to shiver in cold winters or sweat buckets and be pestered by mosquitoes in the tropics when you have an entire planet to choose from?”
Lee’chelle laughed. “Yes. Figures.” For a moment, she rubbed her nose. “So, I can settle down wherever I want?” She knew the answer, but it was nice to hear it.
He humored her. “Of course.” A warm note of amusement entered his voice, “There are no countries or administrative controls down on this planet. Come with an open heart and desire to contribute, and I venture to guess any community will likely welcome you.”
“I wish to go home, Frank.” He raised an eyebrow. “I mean, your godship,” she amended herself and looked at him mischievously.
He gave a bark of a laugh and patted her on the head. “So, you want to settle in Madagascar Island.”
“Yes. It’s where my parents were born and grew up. I think they would’ve liked that.”
Fat Frank studied her face intently, reading her thoughts. “Very well.…Going once, going twice.…” He waited for a moment. “Done!” he exclaimed and clapped once.
The world disappeared in a rush, and she screamed from the sudden pain.
Chapter 36
Monrovia, Liberia, Sub-Saharan Africa, 1902, a Sunday
It was morning, and the tropical air still felt fresh. Galecki and Susan, Puddeck and Aratta, and one of the commissioners had just entered the ripple and stood on a grassy area by a tall palm tree.
They watched as a procession of black people in top hats and immaculate frock coats passed by, conversing in quiet voices. Some tipped their black silk hats their way as they were walking toward a nearby Masonic lodge. On both sides of the dirt road stood a handful of public brick buildings with white trimmed windows, verandas, and arched facades.
About a dozen paces away from them, by the shade of a large house, two well-dressed black couples were conversing.
“The Roberts have invited us for dinner on Tuesday,” one of the husbands was saying to his wife.
Mrs. Roberts laughed, “I was telling Mr. Roberts, the last time we were in such a hole, the steamer was delayed and there was no meat.” She fanned herself, pondering. “Would it inconvenient you too much if we made it Wednesday instead?”
“That would be lovely,” replied Mrs. Barclay.
The two couples exchanged some pleasantries, and the Barclays excused themselves.
Galecki and Susan were watching the exchange in astonishment.
“Did we pass to another Earth through a looking glass?” demanded Susan. She stared. “It looks like the Deep South before the Civil War—but in reverse, where genteel black culture had evolved.”
“Oh, it’s your Earth all right,” said Puddeck with a wry smile. “This is the last society of its kind,” he told the group, eyeing the procession of black people. “Deeply puritans in their beliefs, staunch Victorians in their manners, and decidedly genteel Southern in their views on menial labor and in their attitude toward the local ‘ignorant, degraded, superstitious, wild natives.’”
“What is this place?” asked Galecki, bewildered.
“It began with a few dozen black settlers back in 1822,” said Puddeck. “Coming from the United States, they established their own Plymouth here, in the Grain Coast of western Africa.
“They named it Liberia.” Puddeck smacked his lips. “It was a land of milk and honey and of new beginnings,” he confided. “It was a land rich with gold, iron, and diamonds. It was a land where the grass was always green, the flowers in bloom. And it had no people—that is, if to disregard the Vai, the Gola, the Mende, the Grandi, the Loma, the Belle, the Mandingo, the Kpelle, the Mano, the Gio, the Bassa, the Dei, the Kru, the Krahn, and the Grebo ethnic groups that had been inhabiting the territory, spread among numerous tribes and fiercely vying over land with ever-shifting alliances and areas of control.”
The commissioner had heard of the origins of Liberia, was intrigued about what transpired among the settlers, and wanted to view it firsthand. Puddeck and Aratta obliged him. Susan and Galecki tagged along, keen to visit the past, any past.
Puddeck went on, “In the decades to come, more freed black slaves chose to come from the Americas to the new world. They left the United States and the West Indies to lead a life where they could chart their own destiny. This suited the white American organizers, many of whom by then may have reasoned they should have let the more-motivated-and-with-lower-overheads Irish newcomers pick the cotton and were anxious to dump black people in their ancestral land, Africa. All the same, the white organizers genuinely did help with transport, supplies, and training to those who desired to settle here.”
Puddeck glanced about before returning his attention to his four companions.
“In exchange for some territory, the local natives were given ne
cessities such as light weapons, gun powder, and the all-time American favorites: shiny beads and mirrors. The white negotiators even threw in free-now-get-hooked-later rum and tobacco. Yet, the unappreciative African locals did not want to part with some of the coast. This had also something to do with the kings not having the mandate to do away with tribal land. They had this strange notion that it was communal and inalienable. It was only at a pistol point when the Dei kings involved in the negotiations finally realized the error in their legalistic reasoning and deeded some of the tribal lands away.
“The natives wanted the black American settlers out; they were bad for business. Notably, the Gola, Mandingo, Grebo, Basa, Dei, Vai, and Kru correctly intuited the colonists may aspire to snuff out the coastal trade in slaves, which was a major source of revenue for them. Their people tried to overrun the colony, but God was on the side of the Americans, who heroically fended off the natives, time and again. Finally, a reluctant agreement was forged among the parties.”
“What can you tell me of the indigenous groups of that time?” asked the commissioner.
“The Mandingo people are a proud, courteous, literate, and passionately fond of music. Vai folks are bright and quick-witted, and their ladies are good-natured and charming. The Kru tribes are noisy, self-assertive nation of bullies. And the Kpelle are enthusiastic cannibals, eating prisoners of war and elderly slaves.”
Aratta said, “Your Grace, the Americo-Liberians settlers aimed to create a shining city upon a hill, a beacon and an example for the local nations to follow. But that also meant the natives were to know their place in the larger scheme of things.”
Puddeck smirked. “You stick around these parts for a couple of days, and you may see a little Americo-Liberian girl on her way to school and a native, half-naked boy carrying her primer. Or an Americo-Liberian boy on the back of a native lad, using him as a Shetland pony substitute. Over here, the mistress of the house makes it clear the front door entrance was not to be used by ‘country people.’ And in churches across the settlements, natives are shown to the back rows.
“In the decades to come, the caste system will slowly fade away, coinciding with a gradual process of acceptance, intermarriage, and access to opportunities irrespective of one’s ethnic identity.”
Galecki looked engrossed, the commissioner thoughtful.
Aratta waved a hand, motioning toward the well-dressed people in the distance. “True to their roots in a slave society, a large segment of the Americo-Liberians regarded labor as degrading and befit only menials,” he said. “Even in the early pioneering days, agriculture held but little attraction. As a group, the Americo-Liberians were eloquent, excelled in oratory, and preferred to become lawyers, doctors, or politicians rather than work with their hands.”
Aratta continued, “The motto of the American republic in Africa was ‘the love of liberty brought us here.’ And it came to mean ‘to be free from labor we came here.’ Around here, it has been said that a man wants but little, nor wants that little for long. You will notice it if you talk to them. On the whole, they lack vim, and they love to gather upon every kind of pretext.
“When the settlers found that to build a country required sacrifice, pluck, and steadfastness, many became disheartened. All the same, it was cheap enough to hire and fill one’s house with bush niggers, as they referred to the locals. And this is what they did.
“Instead of learning the languages of West Africa, the colonists chose to immerse themselves in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. Instead of domesticating the indigenous red river hog and white-breasted guineafowl, the settlers imported the Berkshire swine and the Cochin chicken. They could have grown rice and maize, which their fertile soil can grow in abundance. Instead, they have been importing whatever rice they consume. In short, their gaze has been fixed on the Old World, the one they’d left behind. They maintained a Western diet of ham, smoked fish, and French red wines—all imported at a considerable expense.
“The curriculum the Liberians have instituted worked against them; they have over-relied on menial native labor; and they have depended on foreign philanthropy. Skip forward in time to 1902.” Aratta gestured about him. “There are still no railroads, no manufacturing plants, no steam or water mills. They have a few wooden bridges and crude ox carts that ply some produce on the few short roads in existence. Beyond that, the only way to travel is by foot, and transport is done on the backs of people.
“In the end, the Liberians will have manufactured or innovated nothing desired by the broader world economy, nor have they become self-sufficient. Consequently, their economy has largely revolved around growing, harvesting, and hauling out agricultural commodities consumed by the world’s market such as coffee beans, palm oil, and piassava fiber. Alas, their methods have been wasteful and indelicate, resulting in inferior products, which competed poorly on the international arena.”
“How typical is the story of this colony?” The commissioner wanted to know.
“Your question does bring up an interesting point,” told him Aratta. He pondered the matter.
“At the far end of the world,” he eventually said, “the South Australia colony was founded about the same time as the Liberian colony.” He crossed his arms. “Industrious, resourceful, and energetic, the settlers herded one hundred thousand head of cattle within the first fifteen years. During that time frame, the South Australia settlers put under cultivation forty-five thousand acres and grew enough wheat and corn to feed the colony and beyond; they prospected and identified thirty-eight mine sites, half of which they put into operation; and they have set up construction companies, machine factories, and copper-smelting concerns.
“A different group of colonists broke ground in the South Island, New Zealand. This settlement enterprise also had its share of hiccups and strife with the indigenous groups. But when it was all said and done, two and a half decades after the settlers had first set foot, by the 1870s, its main town, Dunedin, had well-lit paved streets. Its houses had running water and gas service. At that point, the settlement sported agricultural societies, farmer associations, and horticultural shows. It had yachting and boating clubs, a race course, and a fire brigade made up of volunteers. Within these twenty-five years, the settlers have constructed a hospital, a university, a museum, botanical gardens, theaters, music and concert halls.”
Puddeck chuckled. “You can imagine in the 1870s, the Polynesians, aka Maoris, who had settled the New Zealand islands and sat on them for six fat centuries prior, scratching their asses and looking at each other. Damn!”
They made themselves comfortable on the grass in the shade of a tree.
“Maori?” The commissioner frowned, remembering something. “Didn’t Maori colonists make a landing in the Chatham Islands around that time, killing off most of the native people and enslaving the rest?”
“Same bunch,” confirmed Puddeck. “Anyway, in the case of the northwestern European colony, success attracted success. More and more people were joining the settlement in the South Island, New Zealand.” He went on, “In contrast, emigration from the United States to Liberia trickled to naught by the time slavery was abolished in America. It appears black Americans chose the life of second-class citizens in the home of the brave, the United States, over first-class citizens in the land of the free, Liberia. Perhaps they saw the writing on the wall.
“Indeed, by the time we are in, 1902, the economy of Liberia is all but bankrupt. Millsburg, which flourished for a short while, has been deserted by now, reclaimed by the jungle like some lost Mayan city.” He cast a curious look around. “But nature hates a vacuum,” he said, “and so does the economy. European trading houses moved in, set up shop, and gradually came to operate wholesale and retail stores at all local cities and ports, employing many Liberians.
“A few decades from now, the Liberian government will manage to woo a foreign company to come and establish a rubber-tree plantation, which
will employ over a quarter of the Liberian workforce. And later, in the 1950s, Liberians will haul and sell off the iron ores they were sitting on top of. And later yet, the Liberians will cut up and sell off the rainforest their land was endowed with, converting some of their territory to a glorified lumberyard.”
Puddeck concluded, “Through the nineteenth century, the effective control of the Liberian government extended just to a handful of coastal towns and settlements along two rivers. And one day,” he added darkly, “the dynamics of the broader region will have overwhelmed the settler society and sweep its mores away.”
Aratta stood up. “We will stay put but go forward in time a few generations,” he told the others. He clapped once, and the world reoriented itself.
Monrovia, Liberia, 1980
Smells of street food and the odor of gasoline greeted them. The tranquil, somewhat picturesque roadway morphed into a grimy avenue filled with parked cars, vendors with awnings, and pedestrians going about their business.
Puddeck watched the goings for a few minutes then turned his attention to the people next to him. “Tomorrow, seventeen soldiers will murder the president, disembowel the corpse, and take over the country. Evidently, it is going to be that easy. The new El Presidente, Samuel Doe, will later be rumored to be impervious to bullets due to eating fetuses of pregnant young girls.
“In the decades leading to 1980, Liberia truly had become the land of freedom and liberation: the president and key ministers felt free to liberate portions of the treasury and foreign donations and apply them to more…utilitarian purposes. President Tubman sometimes traveled on a presidential yacht whose upkeep was reputed to require more than 1 percent of the national budget—which tells you a lot of what you need to know about the president and about the size of the national budget. Tubman was succeeded by Tolbert, whose daughter controlled the sales of all the textbooks in Liberia. Today is to be the last day in the life of President Tolbert.”
“The conduct of the Liberian government was not always like this,” interjected Aratta. “This country was a legitimate republic and stood fast for one hundred years. Against overwhelming odds, the Liberian administration navigated a complex array of international and monetary pressures, working with a meager tax base. In the main, their policies were thought out and well-intended. It governed with decency and under a genuine rule of law.”
The Earth Hearing Page 40