The true story of… The Fall

The true story of…

The Fall 

        

              

        The bishop walked slowly to the lectern and opened the Holy Book. ‘The lesson this morning,’ he intoned solemnly,‘is taken from the Book of Nemesis Chapter 2, Verses 7 to 25,’ ...

        And the Lord formed man out of the dust of the ground and breathed life into his nostrils, and a soul into his body and said unto him ‘Your name is Adam and you are in the Garden of Zeden.’

        And that night, while Adam slept, the Lord took one of his ribs and made from it a woman. And when Adam awoke the Lord said to him ‘This is a woman and her name is Eve. You will cleave to her as your wife and produce more of your kind, which shall be called humans.’ And they were both naked but they were not ashamed, but were pleased to do the bidding of the Lord.

        And the next day the Lord returned to advise the newly married couple, saying unto them ‘Be fertile and multiply, and look after your Garden wisely. Of every tree in the Garden you may freely eat, but of the copper tree you may not eat thereof or you shall surely die,’

        And so it was that Adam and Eve prospered and multiplied and populated the Garden of Zeden with all their descendents who all fed from the plentiful fruit of the Garden.

        And it came to pass that one day, when the Patriarch Adam was walking through the Garden of Zeden, he came face to face with a serpent that was hanging from the branch of a copper tree. And this serpent, which was more subtle than any other beast, whispered in the ear of Adam saying ‘You, Great Patriarch Adam, it is a great pity that in all your five hundred years you have never experienced the marvelous copper of the famous copper tree.’

        ‘And Adam answered him stoutly, saying unto him ‘I am sworn unto my Lord not to eat the fruit of the copper tree.’

        But the serpent answered him saying ‘You may keep your promise unto your Lord, for the copper tree has no fruit. It is called a copper tree because it grows in places where copper is found. With copper you can make knives and spears to kill animals and clothe yourself in their skins.’

Adam was doubtful about this argument, but the serpent continued whispering persuasively, saying ‘How can you, a whole paramount chief, be shivering naked in your own kingdom? You should be wearing a warm leopard skin and wearing the copper crown and copper bangles which befit a mighty king! Instead, Oh King, even the hyenas are laughing at you.’

And so Adam began to feel his nakedness, and yearned to become the Leopard King of Copper. So then the crafty serpent told him about the Mighty Magic Machines which could be brought from the other side of the forest.

And so Adam spoke to his wife of five hundred years, saying unto her ‘I have decided to dig out the copper from under the copper trees.’

And she answered him saying ‘Oh no you mustn’t! The Lord Our God has forbidden it!’

And he answered her, saying ‘I am your Husband and not to be contradicted!’

And so it came to pass that the Mighty Magic Machines arrived in the Garden of Zeden to dig out the copper from under the copper tree, which meant that thousands of copper trees had to be uprooted.

And the copper was found under the copper trees, but so deep down that the Garden of Zeden lost all its trees and instead became one big hole in the ground, called a copper mine.

And so it came to pass that the people of Zeden no longer had an easy life of plucking the fruit off the trees, because there were none. Before long all the women were living in a little village at the side of the Mighty Hole of the Mighty Machines, where they had to work hard to grow beans and maize to feed the men working in the copper mine.

And the men worked mighty hard for the Mighty Machines, because the men were attached to the Mighty Machines, so that the faster a Mighty Machines worked, the faster the men had to work to keep up with them.

And the Mighty Machines generously allowed the men to visit their wives for one day a month, in order to produce the next generation of copper miners and maize growers. And one of the Mighty Machines produced cloth to cover their naked bodies, to avoid any unnecessary thought of reproductive activities during working hours.

And nobody in the former Garden of Zeden, now the Giant Hole Copper Mine, ever received a single piece copper. For every week there arrived another Mighty Machine called a Train that took away all the copper to the Land of Mighty Machines.

Then one day the people heard the thunderous voice of the Lord reverberating around the Great Hole in the Ground, saying ‘You have eaten the forbidden fruit! I gave you Paradise and you have turned it into Hell! You are now attached to machines and your souls have been destroyed! You are already dead and gone to Hell! A Hell that you made for yourselves!’

Now the bishop looked up from the Holy Book, and tears were streaming down his face. A single loud wail rose up from the back of the church. It was infectious: the the entire congregation began wailing uncontrollably.
        For this was not merely the story of Adam and Eve. This was also their story.   

Colonial Mine

Colonial Mine

       

          ‘It must be time for the news,’ said Sara. ‘Turn on Muvi TV.’

           As the picture on our ancient Supersonic came into fuzzy focus, we were presented with two rows of men, facing each other in sullen confrontation. In the foreground stood a line of soldiers, guns at the ready, and pointing at an opposing line of thin and starving workers, dressed in rags. Behind them was an ugly black entrance to a mine, just big enough to take a small railway line down to the depths of hell. Over the top of entrance was written Colonial Mine.

          ‘Good God!’ I exclaimed, ‘What’s going on? Is this Afghanistan? Or the Americans bringing democracy to Iraq?’

          ‘Worse than that,’ said Sara grimly, ‘This looks more like labour relations at one of our mines. They’re probably conducting wage negotiations.’

          ‘What?' I gasped. 'Conducted by a three star general in full ceremonial uniform?’

          ‘That must be the Military Attaché of the Imperial Power,’ explained Sara.

          As we spoke the Military Attaché opened his attaché case and pulled out a pile of pieces of cardboard all connected by string, took hold of two sticks and held them high, and, hey presto! suddenly there appeared a cardboard puppet.

          ‘The Imperial Power never speaks directly to us,’ explained Sara, ‘they always speak through one of their local puppets.’

          ‘What’s the puppet’s name?’ I wondered.

          ‘Do puppets have names?' she chuckled. 'He’s just one of the nameless members of the Puppet Front. He’s probably the Minister for Starvation Wages.’

          ‘But where does he come from?’ I persisted.

          ‘From the Puppet Factory,' laughed Sara. ‘That's where they all come from. The first thing any Imperial Power does is to set up a Puppet Factory. Then they bow to the puppets they have manufactured for themselves, and call them the Puppet Front.’

          Now the Military Attache bent down and whispered something into the ear of his personal Puppet, who then spoke with borrowed ferocity to the hapless starving miners. ‘You useless donkeys,' began the captive Puppet Fraud, 'you show no gratitude. Your Beloved Puppet Fuhrer is working so hard to find more investors that he has had to double his own salary. Therefore there is no money to pay you more!’

          ‘He’s calling them donkeys,’ I protested. ‘But he’s the one who looks like a donkey!’

          ‘Some people can’t recognise their own inadequacies,’ explained Sara. ‘Instead they project their own inadequacies onto other people.’

          At last one starving skeleton plucked up courage and shouted at the Puppet Fraud, ‘We want our housing allowance!’

          As the Military Attache again whispered in Puppet’s ear, the Puppet shouted back ‘You donkeys do not need houses, you’ve always lived in kraals!’

          ‘We want transport money!’ shouted another.

          ‘This is a Christian Nation! The Lord gave donkeys four legs for their own transport!’

          ‘We want protective clothing!’

          ‘God gave you donkeys a thick skin for protection!’

          ‘We want the minimum wage! We were employed as miners, not donkeys!’

           ‘The Imperial Experts are the miners,’ sneered Puppet Fool, ‘you were hired as donkeys. Try reading your employment contract.’

          ‘The Imperial Experts have no skills,’ shouted the angry miners, as the Military Attache continued to busily chew the ear of the Puppet, and the soldiers levelled the barrels of their rifles at the ungrateful mob of miners.

          Now the Puppet assumed a very serious and offended expression. ‘Do not insult the brotherly love between our two countries. Our friends have come here to help you. They have certificates in carpentry, drilling, digging, welding and escaping from prison. Others have diplomas in whipping and shooting.’

          ‘Just give us the money!’

          ‘However,’ continued Puppet Farce, ‘my Imperial brother and I have discussed your plight and we are prepared to be generous. We have agreed between the two of us, and on your behalf, that if you go back to work immediately we are prepared to forget your previous bad behaviour of refusing to work for nothing. Of course we shall have to fire the ringleaders.’

         ‘Just give us enough to feed our children!’

         ‘Only education can help your children. In this regard, I am please to inform you had my Imperial brother has also intimated to me that the Empire is planning to build a university in Lusaka where your sons and grandsons can learn drilling and digging. Then your sons and grandsons will become Mining Experts, and the Imperial Experts can go back to home, and this mine will be yours forever. Your own land will finally be yours!’

         ‘This mine is dangerous,’ shouted one brave skeleton. ‘At least pay us danger money!’

         ‘This mine is very safe,’ retorted Puppet Frantic. ‘I’m told by the mine manager that there have never been more than ten deaths in any one week!’

         But as he spoke there was a rumbling sound from below. Then the ground began to sink under Puppet Fright and his platoon of shivering soldiers. With no further warning, and very suddenly, they all disappeared into a large hole in the ground, leaving behind a cloud of rising dust. The miners looked over the edge of this instant precipice, and crossed themselves earnestly, thanking the Lord for their own deliverance from this dreadful collumity.

        ‘It’s not just us,’ said one miner sadly, ‘the entire country is on the edge of disaster.’

         ‘I suppose,’ said another, ‘that we’ll all go to jail for this.’

         Now the TV screen was suddenly filled with the seriously sleepy face of Comatoze Mwanza. ‘I hope you enjoyed our Muvi Historical Documentary on the Miners’ Riots of 1947. Standby for the news, which follows shortly.’

        ‘I hope you didn’t think that the documentary was part of tonight’s news!’ laughed Sara.

        ‘Of course not,’ I replied. 'I realised immediately it was ancient history.'
         'History,' said Sara, 'has a habit or repeating itself.'

          

THE MARCH PAST

The March Past

On Sunday, like all good journalists, I was there at the Freedom Statue to see the marching of our loyal workers past their Great Leader, the carrying of banners and the great speeches. What a glorious and impressive occasion of state, enough to stir the patriotic heart of all loyal citizens! Bugger the Royal Wedding, we have Labour Day!

I was standing on the pavement opposite the Great Leader’s dais, where the Beloved Father of the Nation stood to take the salute from each marching cohort. First down the road, behind a big red banner proclaiming Chambeshi Exploitation, marched a brigade of identical ill-fitting brown suits. As they drew level with the Great Leader their commander shouted Eyes Right! Salute! and the Great Leader picked up his microphone and shouted Starvation Wages for All! Whereupon they all responded in hearty unison Thank you Sah!

Now came the next cohort, behind a bright yellow banner announcingSlavery PLC. The sequence was very similar.

Eyes Right! Salute! shouted the commander, as the brown suits all saluted.

Strikes are illegal! declared the Great Leader.

Thank you Sah! sang the workers joyfully.

Then came another cohort of ill-fitting suits behind a bright blue banner reading Work, Sweat and Blood and Company Ltd,

Eyes Right! Salute!

I give you batons and bullets!

Thank you Sah!

I turned to Ample Mapulanga from The Digga Deepa, who happened to be standing right behind me. ‘Why do the workers keep saying Thank you Sah! when they are promised death and destruction?’

‘What workers?’ asked Ample, looking around with the keen eye of an investigative reporter.

‘The workers marching past our Beloved Leader!’ I hissed angrily.

‘They’re not workers,’ he laughed. ‘Workers were banned from Labour Day years ago, after one cheeky worker shouted at the Great Leader and asked for a wage increase.’

‘So who are all these people in horrible brown suits?’

‘They’re all Chinese managers from the new extractive industries,’ explained Ample.

‘Extracting copper?’ I suggested.

‘Extracting flesh and blood,’ sneered Ample, ‘and possibly a few kidneys.’

Finally all the identical cohorts of identical brown suits had given their identical salutes, and now stood at attention to hear further gems of wisdom from the Great Leader, our Beloved Father of the Nation.

‘We are gathered here today,’ began the Great Leader, ‘at the Freedom Statue, which represents the figure of Capital breaking free from the chains of regulation and workers rights, in order to be free to accumulate wealth.’

‘Ching Chang!’ cheered the Chinese managers

‘Only by keeping down wages can we encourage more investors to come to this country. And only by brutally putting down protests and strikes can we keep down the wages down.’

‘Hing Hong!’ cheered the identical brown suits.

‘How does the Great Leader expect the workers to vote for him when he says such things?’ I whispered to Ample

‘That’s why he imported two million Chinese,’ said Ample. ‘They’ve all been given the vote.’

‘I am taking this opportunity,’ continued the Great Leader, ‘to announce that Desertification Unlimited of Shanghai are investing 500 million dollars in a new project to clear all the trees from Northern Province. This will create 10,000 new jobs, provide a dollar a day for the workers and a further dollar a tree for the treasury.’

‘Ho Ho Bling Bling!’ cheered the brown suits, now jumping up and down with excitement, as the surrounding crowd stood there in sullen disbelief.

‘It seems everything he says and does,’ I said, turning again to Ample, ‘is intended to please the Chinese rather than us!’

‘What d’you expect?’ laughed Ample. ‘He’s a Chinese puppet!’

‘But how did he become a Chinese puppet?’

‘Same way as other Chinese puppets,’ laughed Ample. ‘He was made in China!’

‘You mean they’re pulling the strings?’

‘Exactly,’ said Ample. ‘You see the canvas canopy on top of the dais? That contains the Chinese puppet master. He’s pulling the strings. If you look carefully, you can even see the strings. But the puppet is a brilliant imitation, every roll of fat and obscene gesture is replicated perfectly. See that Chinese lorry behind the statue? That’s where they keep all the gear!’

‘A mobile Great Leader! He must have imported it from China!’

‘He imported nine of them,’ laughed Ample. ‘One for each province. That’s why you see him on the TV every night, laying foundation stones in ten different places. The election campaign will have ten Great Leaders, but only one Cycle Mata!’

‘So if this Great Leader is just a Chinese puppet, where is the real one?’

‘You know our Great Leader is very fond of traditional ceremonies. I’m told he’s gone to Solwezi for the Dance of the Naked Virgins. This is the time of year when they initiate their young girls into womanhood. You know he takes his duties as Father of the Nation very seriously.’

‘Couldn’t one of the puppets do the job?’

‘Oh no,’ laughed Ample. ‘That one needs the real thing.’