African Laughter - Doris May Lessing [21]
‘No I don’t, I’m afraid.’
At nine o’clock Harry said he was off to bed. He had drunk the exact amount to make him sleep. He didn’t sleep easily these days, he said. He wasn’t going to lie awake thinking all those thoughts…the doctor had given him a prescription, but he wasn’t going to take all that chemical rubbish. Brandy was much better for you.
I said I never slept before twelve or one. He said, ‘You will here. You can watch the television if you like…but the Affs, they can’t run anything, let alone television.’ He glared at me, standing in the doorway, a glass in his hand, his thumb just above the level of the brandy, like a reminder to himself. He couldn’t bear to put off what had been at the back of his mind while we talked, just as it had at mine, and now he delivered a monologue, in a hot, angry, frustrated bitter voice, and it was exactly the same as the one I had listened to only last night, on the plane, from the race-horse breeder.
‘Your precious Africans, what is the first thing they do? They take over our Government House, and install President Banana, Banana, what a name, and he hasn’t been in it a week before he has chickens running all over the gardens, our gardens, and all his friends and relations are camped in the place, like a kraal. The next thing is, the place is surrounded by a high fence. Young Jack, from the next farm, but he’s Taken the Gap now, went and threw in some chicken feed through the wire, and shouted Cluck, cluck, cluck, bloody peasants, peasants in Government House. And Mugabe, Comrade Mugabe, he goes around in a motorcade with armed guards, and if someone doesn’t get out of the way quick enough, they get shot. Our Prime Ministers didn’t need to go around in a motorcade with armed escorts, they didn’t have anything to be afraid of. And inefficient…they can’t get anything right…let me tell you…and let me tell you another thing…yes, and that’s not all.’ It goes on and on, and ends: ‘They’re inferior to us, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘It might strike some people as rather touching and even wonderful that the first black President when he moves into Government House, that is, into the symbol of the old regime, makes it clear he is not going to set himself above the people. Peasant people. He lets it be known he is keeping chickens and anyone can drop in, African style…’
‘No one is going to drop in now. He’s surrounded by security fences and guards armed with kalashnikovs.’
‘You don’t think there might be some connection between putting up security fences and white louts turning up to jeer and shout threats? You don’t think Mugabe goes around in a motorcade because you people would cut his throat as soon as look at him?’
‘Louts?’
‘Louts.’
He glares at me.
I glare back.
He went to bed. I went out into the cold dark of the garden and stood there for a long time, hoping that beyond the security fence I would see the dim shape of a duiker moving about in the starlight. But the dogs stood quietly by me, looking straight out, so there was nothing there.
We were up by five-thirty, awakened with that long forgotten amenity, the early morning cup of tea. At seven we sat down to an old-fashioned English breakfast, laid before us by Joseph, a smiling friendly young man who had already asked how he could come to London and work in my house as my servant. I said we didn’t have servants: that is, only a few rich people had them. He stared at me, unhappy, because he wanted to live in London where the streets are paved with gold. Then, ‘Who does your work for you? Who cleans your house? Who cooks your food?’ When I said most people cleaned their own houses and cooked their food, he shook his head, disapproving.
During breakfast Harry was angry, and I listened to The Monologue again. I knew by now I was going to hear it over and over again, during this trip. At any given time, all the people of the same kind will be saying the same things, often using the same phrases. It is this mechanism that journalists rely on: interview two or three people and you know what everyone