Page 36 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective
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Road Kill

        than the larger. We, being the largest, had the least to show for our
        efforts,  but  American  domestic  politics  demanded  some  polite
        fabrications  concerning  the  return  on  investment  of  millions  of
        dollars a year, so we continued pouring it in.  The major players in
        the  Cold  War  (the  Soviets  and  the  Chinese  and  us)  all  maintained
        embassies  much  larger  than  a  casual  observer  would  expect,  given
        Jolibana’s unimportance on the realpolitik chessboard of Africa—not
        to mention the world.  Again,  it was the  obscurity  of the  place: no
        television  or  newspapers,  one  totally  self-serving  government  radio
        station,  no  European  or  American  wire  services.  Many  of  the
        negotiations leading to Nixon’s visit to China in 1971 were carried
        out in Falidougou, far from prying eyes and ears.
           The greatest presence, of course, was French. La mission civilizatrice
        had  not  ended  with  De  Gaulle  unbundling  the  Sudan  into  a  crazy
        quilt of ill-defined nation-states. The economies and political cultures
        of their former colonies remained tied in myriad ways to France, no
        matter how revolutionary the rhetoric issuing from their presidential
        palaces.  So  French  expatriates  manned  key  administrative  and
        technical positions in most ministries of Jolibana and her neighbors,
        and  no  African  could  get  far  in  the  government  (the  primary
        employer) without fluency in French. All in all, during my tenure as
        administrative  officer  in  the  American  Embassy  (1979-82),  there
        must have been about five hundred foreigners living in the capital,
        the majority French nationals.
           My  responsibilities  included,  as  well  as  day-to-day  operational
        affairs  at  the  embassy,  looking  out  in  a  general  way  for  all  the
        Americans in the country. We were so few in number, so far from
        home, and so vulnerable to a variety of life-threatening diseases that
        an  implicit  community  existed  among  us.  Local  medical  care  was
        rudimentary at best. Anyone injured or violently ill upcountry had to
        count  on  word  getting  back  to  the  capital  and  a  medivac  plane
        showing up in time to save his or her life. Mental illnesses were also
        common, occasionally leading to suicide; Jolibana was not a place for
        a middle-class American to bring an unresolved emotional problem
        or barely-latent identity crisis. Marriages dissolved and new alliances
        were formed, none with much chance of surviving back in the States.
        We  had  an  American  nurse,  and  one  doctor  who  covered  all  the
        Sahel countries—an area the size of the continental United States.

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