Page 39 - Fables volume 1

How Ten Thousand Termites Escaped from Captivity

have the ability to recognize useful techniques no matter where they
may be found, and the vision to see how they may be applied.”
Amadou sensed the righteousness emanating from his superior, and
kept his counsel. He had seen other foreigners snap under the strain
of maintaining their equilibrium in Forolonkolo. Happily, they did not
run amok, as disturbed Westerners often did in their own territory, but
were liable to turn to alcohol until their tours of duty terminated.
Amadou noted the quantity of beer consumed by Homer Henry on
the field trip, and concluded the end was near. Best for him to stay out
of the American’s way as much as possible in future.
It was almost midnight when they rolled into the unlit streets of the
capital. Homer helped Amadou deposit the mound in a windowless
closet in the CDI office. He locked it securely and they left the
building. Amadou then dropped Homer off at his villa in the
foreigners’ quarter and drove on to his own compound on the other
side of town. He locked the Land Crusher and made sure the night
watchman slept on its hood. The next morning he would be able to
take his wives to the market in style, one of the fringe benefits of the
job. Now he just wanted to sleep, praying he would not dream of the
day just concluding so strangely.
Homer Henry, snug under his mosquito net, an air conditioner
keeping his bedroom at the temperature of a meat locker, nevertheless
did not easily relinquish consciousness. He planned and plotted his
next moves with military precision: first the reference books and
consultants at the local USAID office. Then, armed with the technical
data concerning the termites’ secret of waterproofing mud, he would
take some Peace Corps volunteers out for a beer and pick their brains
for a way to apply the method to indigenous masonry practices. Then,
perhaps, if time permitted, he could arrange a small demonstration,
and write the whole thing up as part of his report. A few instant
photos of the mound and a disintegrating granary would complement
the text quite nicely, he decided: a picture was worth a thousand
words, particularly to the desk jockeys back in Virginia. Finally
satisfied with his program, Homer drifted off into dreamless slumber.
By noon the next day his mood was dangerous. Amadou had shown
up late with the vehicle; no literature or specialists in entomology were
to be found among the Anglophonic residents of Jombougou; and

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