A Bend in the River - V.S. Naipaul [69]
Indar said, “We’ve had an easy ride here.”
“I don’t think it would have occurred to him to try to censor you. He feels that all ideas can be made to serve the cause. You might say that with him there’s an absolute hunger for ideas. He uses them all in his own way.”
Yvette said, “I wish he would change the boys’ uniforms. The good old colonial style of short trousers and a long white apron. Or long trousers and a jacket. But not that carnival costume of short trousers and jacket.”
We all laughed, even Raymond, as though we were glad to stop being solemn. And Yvette’s boldness was also like proof of the freedom Raymond had been talking about.
Raymond said, “Yvette goes on about the boys’ uniforms. But that’s the army background, and the mother’s hotel background. The mother wore a colonial maid’s uniform all her working life. The boys in the Domain have to wear theirs. And it isn’t a colonial uniform—that’s the point. In fact, everybody nowadays who wears a uniform has to understand that. Everyone in uniform has to feel that he has a personal contract with the President. And try to get the boys out of that uniform. You won’t succeed. Yvette has tried. They want to wear that uniform, however absurd it is to our eyes. That’s the amazing thing about this man of Africa—this flair, this knowledge of what the people need, and when.
“We have all these photographs of him in African costume nowadays. I must confess I was disturbed when they began to appear in such number. I raised the issue with him one day in the capital. I was shattered by the penetration of his answer. He said, ‘Five years ago, Raymond, I would have agreed with you. Five years ago our African people, with that cruel humour which is theirs, would have laughed, and that ridicule would have destroyed our country, with its still frail bonds. But times have changed. The people now have peace. They want something else. So they no longer see a photograph of a soldier. They see a photograph of an African. And that isn’t a picture of me, Raymond. It is a picture of all Africans.’ ”
This was so like what I felt, that I said, “Yes! None of us in the town liked putting up the old photograph. But it is different seeing the new photographs, especially in the Domain.”
Raymond permitted this interruption. His right hand was being raised, though, to allow him to go on. And he went on.
“I thought I would check this. Just last week, as a matter of fact. I ran into one of our students outside the main building. And just to be provocative, I dropped some remark about the number of the President’s photographs. The young man pulled me up quite sharply. So I asked him what he felt when he saw the President’s photograph. You will be surprised by what he said to me, that young man, holding himself as erect as any military cadet. ‘It is a photograph of the President. But here on the Domain, as a student at the polytechnic, I also consider it a photograph of myself.’ The very words! But that’s a quality of great leaders—they intuit the needs of their people long before those needs are formulated. It takes an African to rule Africa—the colonial powers never truly understood that. However much the rest of us study Africa, however deep our sympathy, we will remain outsiders.”
The young man, sitting now on a mat with his girl, asked, “Do you know the symbolism of the serpent on the President’s stick? Is it true that there’s a fetish in the belly of the human figure on the stick?”
Raymond said, “I don’t know about that. It is a stick. It is a chief’s stick. It is like a mace or a mitre. I don’t think we have to fall into the error of looking for African mysteries everywhere.”
The critical note jarred a little. But Raymond seemed not to notice.
“I have recently had occasion to look through all the President’s speeches. Now, what an interesting publication that would make! Not the speeches in their entirety, which inevitably deal with many passing issues. But selections. The essential thoughts.”
Indar said, “Are you working on that? Has