Black Man's Burden Part 15

He broke some bread, automatically doing it with his left hand, as prescribed in the Koran. They both noticed it, and both laughed.

"I'm conditioned," he said.

"Me, too," Isobel admitted. "It's all I can do to use a knife and fork."

He went back to her question, scowling. "My dream? I don't know. Right now I feel a little depressed about it all. When Elmer Allen spoke about spending the rest of our lives on this job, I suddenly realized that was about it. And, you know"--he looked up at her--"I don't particularly like Africa. I'm an American."

She looked at him oddly. "Then why stay here?"

"Because there's so much that needs to be done."

"Yes, you're right and what Cliff Jackson said to the doctor was correct, too. We all do what we must do and what we can do."

"Well, that brings us back to your question. What is my own dream? I'm afraid I'm too far along in life to acquire new ones, and my basic dream is an American one."

"And that is--?" Isobel prompted.

He shrugged again, slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of this pretty girl. "I'm a sociologist, Isobel. I suppose I seek Utopia."

She frowned at him as though disappointed. "Is Utopia possible?"

"No, but there is always the search for it. It's a goal that recedes as you approach, which is as it should be. Heaven help mankind if we ever achieve it; we'll be through because there will be no place to go, and man needs to strive."

They had finished their soup and the entree had arrived. Isobel picked at it, her ordinarily smooth forehead wrinkled. "The way I see it, Utopia is not heaven. Heaven is perfect, but Utopia is an engineering optimum, the best-possible-human-techniques. Therefore we will not have _perfect_ justice in Utopia, nor will _everyone_ get the exactly proper treatment. We design for optimum--not perfection. But granting this, then attainment is possible."

She took a bite of the food before going on thoughtfully. "In fact, I wonder if, during man's history, he hasn't obtained his Utopias from time to time. Have you ever heard the adage that any form of government works fine and produces a Utopia provided it is managed by wise, benevolent and competent rulers?" She laughed and said mischievously, "Both Heaven and h.e.l.l are traditionally absolute monarchies--despotisms.

The form of government evidently makes no difference, it's who runs it that determines."

Crawford was shaking his head. "I've heard the adage but I don't accept it. Under certain socio-economic conditions the best of men, and the wisest, could do little if they had the wrong form of government.

Suppose, for instance, you had a government which was a military-theocracy which is more or less what existed in Mexico at the time of the Cortez conquest. Can you imagine such a government working efficiently if the socio-economic system had progressed to the point where there were no longer wars and where practically everyone were atheists, or, at least, agnostics?"

She had to laugh at his ludicrous example. "That's a rather silly situation, isn't it? Such wise, benevolent men, would change the governmental system."

Crawford pushed his point. "Not necessarily. Here's a better example.

Immediately following the American Revolution, some of the best, wisest and most competent men the political world has ever seen were at the head of the government of Virginia. Such men as Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Was.h.i.+ngton. Their society was based on chattel slavery and they built a Utopia _for themselves_ but certainly not for the slaves who out-numbered them. Not that they weren't kindly and good men. A man of Jefferson's caliber, I am sure, would have done anything in the world for those darkies of his--except get off their backs. Except to grant them the liberty and the right to pursue happiness that he demanded for himself. He was blinded by self interest, and the interests of his cla.s.s."

"Perhaps they didn't want liberty," Isobel mused. "Slavery isn't necessarily an unhappy life."

"I never thought it was. And I'm the first to admit that at a certain stage in the evolution of society, it was absolutely necessary. If society was to progress, then there had to be a cla.s.s that was freed from daily drudgery of the type forced on primitive man if he was to survive. They needed the leisure time to study, to develop, to invent.

With the products of their studies, they were able to advance all society. However, so long as slavery is maintained, be it necessary or not, you have no Utopia. There is no Utopia so long as one man denies another his liberty be it under chattel slavery, feudalism, or whatever."

Isobel said dryly, "I see why you say your Utopia will never be reached, that it continually recedes."

He laughed, ruefully. "Don't misunderstand. I think that particular goal can and will be reached. My point was that by the time we reach it, there will be a new goal."

The girl, finished with her main dish, sat back in her chair, and looked at him from the side of her eyes, as though wondering whether or not he could take what she was about to say in the right way. She said, slowly, "You know, with possibly a few exceptions, you can't enslave a man if he doesn't want to be a slave. For instance, the white man was never able to enslave the Amerind; he died before he would become a slave. The majority of Jefferson's slaves _wanted to be slaves_. If there were those among them that had the ability to revolt against slave psychology, a Jefferson would quickly promote such. A valuable human being will be treated in a manner proportionate to his value. A wise, competent, trustworthy slave became the major domo of the master's estate--with privileges and authority actually greater than that of free employees of the master."

Crawford thought about that for a moment. "I'll take that," he said.

"What's the point you're trying to make?"

"I, too, was set a-thinking by some of the things said at the meeting, Homer. In particular, what Dr. Smythe had to say. Homer, are we sure these people _want_ the things we are trying to give them?"

He looked at her uncomfortably. "No they don't," he said bluntly.

"Otherwise we wouldn't be here, either your AFAA or my African Development Project. We utilize persuasion, skullduggery, and even force to subvert their inst.i.tutions, to destroy their present culture. Yes.

I've known this a long time."

"Then how do you justify your being here?"

He grinned sourly. "Let's put it this way. Take the new government in Egypt. They send the army into some of the small back-country towns with bayoneted rifles, and orders to use them if necessary. The villagers are forced to poison their ancient village wells--one of the highest of imaginable crimes in such country, imposed on them ruthlessly. Then they are forced to dig new ones in new places that are not intimately entangled with their own sewage drainage. Naturally they hate the government. In other towns, the army has gone in and, at gun point, forced the parents to give up their children, taken the children away in trucks and 'imprisoned' them in schools. Look, back in the States we have trouble with the Amish, who don't want their children to be taught modern ways. What sort of reaction do you think the tradition-ritual-tabu-tribesmen of the six thousand year old Egyptian culture have to having modern education imposed on their children?"

Isobel was frowning at him.

Crawford wound it up. "That's the position we're in. That's what we're doing. Giving them things they need, in spite of the fact they don't want them."

"But _why_?"

He said, "You know the answer to that as well as I do. It's like giving medical care to Typhoid Mary, in spite of the fact that she didn't want it and didn't believe such things as typhoid microbes existed. We had to protect the community against her. In the world today, such backward areas as Africa are potential volcanoes. We've got to deal with them before they erupt."

The waiter came with the bill and Homer took it.

Isobel said, "Let's go Dutch on that."

He grinned at her. "Consider it a donation to the AFAA."

Out on the street again, they walked slowly in the direction of the old administration buildings where both had left their means of transportation.

Isobel, who was frowning thoughtfully, evidently over the things that had been said, said, "Let's go this way. I'd like to see the old Great Mosque, in the Dyingerey Ber section of town. It's always fascinated me."

Crawford said, looking at her and appreciating her attractiveness, all over again, "You know Timbuktu quite well, don't you?"

"I've just finished a job down in Kabara, and it's only a few miles away."

"Just what sort of thing do you do?"

She shrugged and made a moue. "Our little team concentrates on breaking down the traditional position of women in these cultures. To get them to drop the veil, go to school. That sort of thing. It's a long story and--"

Homer Crawford suddenly and violently pushed her to the side and to the ground and at the same time dropped himself and rolled frantically to the shelter of an adobe wall which had once been part of a house but now was little more than waist high.

"Down!" he yelled at her.

She bug-eyed him as though he had gone suddenly mad.

There was a heavy, stub-nosed gun suddenly in his hand. He squirmed forward on elbows and belly, until he reached the corner.

"What's the matter?" she blurted.