The Congo Affair~ chapter 12 "Be careful what you wish for"

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

link to chapter 11: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/270856.html

                 

At the evening meal, the grey haired patriarch of the family, Cromwell Kinsford, dressed in a white linen suit, was introduced to Anthony Schoonovar, and intern, he introduced the other guests seated at the table.

A balding, portly French botanist name Louis Pascal, a pair of nervous looking British tourists named Elizabeth and Michael Clayworth, and a burly man of German extraction called Breuder, who led big game expeditions in Katanga, were already seated as Napoleon was shown his chair, pulled out for him by Kwasi, who was now wearing a pair of white gloves to go with his white uniform.

Maggie was seated at the table across from Napoleon, her two brothers James and Paul in their mid-twenties, as well as the doctor were seated on either side of him.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Schoonovar, and so sorry to hear your companion Mr. Rosbük is not well. It's lucky my nephew Richard is a physician and can take care of us all. With the political unrest here, it is getting too dangerous to travel, as I must remind my daughter Margaret on a constant basis."

"Thank you sir for your hospitality. If it hadn't been for your daughter's kindness, I'm not sure what Edwin and I would have done." Napoleon answered, sounding rather meek. He was keeping his demeanor more low-key than usual, and acting the part of an innocent.

"I understand you work for a Dutch company?" Cromwell asked.

"Yes sir we do, but from the looks of things, we won't be doing much business here after all," Napoleon sighed dramatically.

"Well I for one am glad I was at the refugee camp and could help you," Maggie smiled.

"Yeah, leave it to my sister to want to go help the Kaffirs and bring home a pair of stray white dogs in the process," Michael hissed.

"Michael, I insist you stop using that Afrikaner term for the coloureds," his father raised his voice. "And our guests are not stray dogs. Your sister was merely doing her due diligence and helping out her fellow whites. No decent person should have to be exposed to that rabble in the camp. Those people simply don't know how to take care of themselves and need to be treated with kindness, and educated to live like civilized people, which I'm afraid has been a difficult task in these parts."

Napoleon raised his eyebrows at the condescending remarks he was hearing. "Sir, I beg to differ, these people have their own distinct culture and way of life that's been torn apart by this awful conflict. Yes, they should be treated with kindness and dignity, but not looked down upon. They're human beings too."

"Here here, "Richard said, "Finally someone to challenge the pervasive line of thought." He raised his glass of wine in toast, downing it completely, but his voice sounded as if he'd already had a bit too much to drink. "You'll find dinner conversation heeeer, tends to be rather one-sided Mr. Schoonvar, if it goes beyond talk of plantation business," Richard slurred.

"Leave it to the self-righteous Yank to stand up for the coloureds, while in your own country they're second class citizens and merely descendants of slaves. I think you should worry about your own house before you pass judgement on another's, Mr. Schoonovar, " Michael ripped into him.

"Please, please...stop," Maggie interrupted, "That is no way to speak to a guest. You need to mind your manners Michael."

"I have a right to express my opinion."

"Not when it insults my guest. So I'll hear no more of it."

"I do not know how long you have been in Africa but...say what is it exactly you do for a living?" Breuder asked.

"Mr. Rosbrük and I work for an export company in Holland. My Uncle Alexander is the owner and he was looking to expand our business interests in the Congo. We deal in building supplies, water purification systems and so forth. Edwin and I had only been here a few weeks when the coup took place."

"See, what did I tell you! Only here a few weeks and you pass judgement on us, "Michael blurted out."

"He is partly correct Mr. Schoonovar,' Breuder said. "as are you. I have worked with many of the tribes and they are a simple but canny people who know the land and how to live off of it. I see nothing wrong with their ways, but educating the young would only improve their lot in life and make them aware of the bigger world outside their villages."

"Yes,"Napoleon agreed, speaking more succinctly, as he was becoming annoyed, "there's no denying that education is a good thing for any person, but with the attitudes I see here, there would be little opportunity for any of the indigenous to improve their so called, 'lot in life' and if they did... at what cost, I might add. It seems you want them to become more white, abandoning their traditions, and yet be nothing more than servants." He eyed Kwasi, standing there motionless all this time, as if he didn't exist and felt embarrassed the man was forced to listen to this drivel. "And Michael, we may not be perfect in the U.S. but we are trying to smooth things out and make amends for the past. Our first amendment rights include everyone and aren't for a privileged few."

"Maybe in writing, but it's not worth the paper it's written on if it isn't the same for everyone," Maggie agreed.

"Mon Dieu, let us face facts, the negro race is not looked upon well throughout the world...there must be a reason for it, n'est ce pas? The botanist, Pascal interjected.

"No Monsieur Pascal, you're wrong," Maggie snapped.

"That's right Maggie," James finally spoke up, "stick up for your precious coloureds."

She glared at her other brother. "Please, can we just enjoy our meal in peace?" Maggie pleaded.

Napoleon shook his head in disgust, deciding not to continue to engage these people any further in conversation. They sooner he and Illya were out of this place, the happier he'd be.

Dinner was served and eaten in silence, and once it was over Solo thanked his hosts for a fine meal. He carried a tray upstairs for Illya, refusing to let Kwasi do it.

When he opened the door, he found his partner wrapped in several blankets, sweating heavily, and not because of the air temperature. He looked pretty bad.

"How you feeling chum?"

"I have been better. I think perhaps the fever has broken...did you get to look at the telephone yet?" His glassy blue eyes gravitated to the tray Napoleon was carrying.

"Ah the roast beef dinner," Illya tried smiling, as Solo laid the tray on his lap.

"No not yet. I thought getting you your dinner needed priority." Napoleon watched as his partner tried to dig the food, at first devouring it with gusto.. "Good to see your appetite is intact."

"Actually it is not, I have no inclination for seconds," Illya said, not even finishing what was left on his plate before pushing it aside.

"Hmm, sure that fever has broken?" Napoleon laid his hand on the Russian's forehead.

"You do feel a bit cooler."

"Good, then I will go have a look at that telephone. I have no desire to languish here in a bed, comfortable though it may be."

"Suit yourself, but promise me you'll get right back to it anyway, once you're finished? I want you better asap so we can get out of this place. You would have been charmed by the dinner conversation," Napoleon answered sarcastically.

"Yes, I will...once the phone is repaired and we have contacted headquarters."

Illya put on his robe, remaining in his pajamas and walked barefoot alongside his American friend as they headed downstairs. There they met Kwasi and he directed them to the telephone.

"This way, gentleman. It is in the study but it does not work," he spoke in clipped English.

"We are going to try to fix it," Illya said.

They were shown to the room and on a large oak desk sat an antiquated black rotary telephone. Illya immediately took the receiver apart, examining the components, and found them all in order. It was when he opened the base of the phone itself, he immediately saw the problem. The wires within were corroded, and needed to be replaced.

"Kwasi are there any such wires here in the house that I might use?" Illya asked.

"No sir, I told Master Cromwell already this was what needed to be done to repair it, but they do not listen to one such as me."

"These people are too much," Napoleon said to his partner.

Maggie Kingsford walked into the study at that moment "Who is too much?" She asked, spotting the phone in Edwin's hands. "Ah I see you are trying to repair it. Thank you Mr. Rosbrük, but should you be out of bed?"

The Russian ignored her question. "I am afraid it is a lost cause Miss Kingsford, the internal wires are corroded and need replacing. Kwasi has told me there are no such fine wires to be had," Illya answered, but broke into a congested cough.

"Oh dear, so close yet so far. I know you're anxious to get hold of your Uncle...would a shortwave radio help perhaps?"

"You have a radio?" Napoleon blurted out.

"Yes, all the plantations have them to keep in touch with each other, in case of any emergency."

"Maggie that's wonderful news as it can definitely help. Where is it?

"It's in the back of the house...I'll show you Anthony. Now Mr. Rosbrük, I suggest you get back to bed before Richard sees you. He doesn't take kindly to doctor's orders being ignored. Kwasi, please show the gentleman back up to his room."

"Yes Miss," the servant answered dutifully. Illya followed him without any further discussion.

"The radio is this way," she smiled entrancingly at Napoleon.

He'd seen that look in a woman's eyes before, she was flirting with him, there was no doubt about it. That was something he'd perhaps deal with later, but first things first...the radio.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks. Yes I struggled over writing that dinner conversation, so I'm glad you liked it.