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Interesting, though I would like to have an explanation about what is going on.
Is this a part of some sort of Rwanda-esque massacre or something, fueled by ethnic divides?
Is this a part of some sort of Rwanda-esque massacre or something, fueled by ethnic divides?
That'll be cleared up in the next installment, but for general clarity:
The two brothers killed the family, in a vengance killing, of someone (Ayele) who raped and murdered their sister. However, they are now on the run from the massacre they perpetrated.
-Adso
The two brothers killed the family, in a vengance killing, of someone (Ayele) who raped and murdered their sister. However, they are now on the run from the massacre they perpetrated.
-Adso
Continued
....
That night, for the first time, Mugeta and Kambui slept without once hearing the lowing of cattle, but more than once they awoke, frightened by the chugging of the long-carts passing down the track.
They ran for four days, living off canteens and tiny savannah-lakes before they came to the town of Ijat Mukui, two dozen white plaster-and-brick buildings clustered around the railroad tracks, and, of course, old-style huts, almost but not quite like the ones in Ibyati Musu.
“Look, Mugeta! You see those buildings! Look at the way they shine!” Kambui was so excited he almost dropped his canteen while he took a swig.
Mugeta, though, was not impressed. “I went once to Udia to get a doctor, and they had larger buildings there, and brighter…” He trailed off, staring down the long-cart track at the town.
“Come on, Mugeta. It is a place where no one knows us, and I did not tell you, but the Yusai,”
Mugeta spoke loudly for the first time in a week, cutting his brother off.
“…that means the Easterners have soldiers here. Those are not our buildings, see the funny roof? Don’t talk about the blood of the Yusai or anything else.”
“Oh, come on Mugeta. I have their money and my vengance. I didn’t tell you, but the Yusai had a stash of Easterner currency, I threw it in the bag when we ran from the old men and now we can use it to run on the long-carts instead of beside them.”
Mugeta gave him a long, hard look and started walking towards Ijat Mukui. Kambui shouldered his rifle and caught up.
“Mugeta, you have not talked to me for two days, and now you aren’t happy to hear we have money?”
“The Easterners will be looking for us, and that frightens me.”
“But Ibyati Musu is five days from here and more. Why would the Easterners here look for us?”
“All the Easterners serve the Big Dragon, and so wherever we go, if one Easterner would want us, they all would.”
“The Big Dragon is just a word they use for their city-headmen, come on…”
This was a familiar debate (who the Easterners served), and the two brothers seemed like a normal pair of joking hunters, almost, as they walked into Ijak Mukui, and only someone who looked very close could have picked out the stains on their rifle butts for what they were.
The day passed in a blur – in the largest building of the town, a kind of grand hall, they had a meal to celebrate their safe arrival, and bought tickets with the polite Easterner who ran the long-cart station.
There were soldiers, surely, but perhaps no word had come around to this town yet, for their pictures were not up on the walls of the Hegemony Rail Office, nor did anyone stop them.
Prayer was called that night, and both of them attended, forgetful as they had been ever since that black and shameful night when their sister had died. For Kumbai, prayer was a relief, and he chanted along with the fatiha happily, bowing and praying and watching the sky turn black as the sun sank across the savannah.
But the sinking sun brought little comfort to Mugeta as he prayed silently, bowing lower and lower and raising himself less and less, until he was curled silently before the singing of the prayer-leader.
He thought of his home, the bright huts in his mind now tinged with the dark, blackening red that had caked his hands after the killing.
Ayele had taken her. He had destroyed her honor. He was a devil, his clan were unredeemed and never attended prayer, he stole her beautiful face and he killed her. His clan had helped him hide the crime, and they had flaunted it before Mugeta and Kumbai. They had deserved what he and Kumbai gave them.
But now he could remember the sick feeling of another man’s life cracking under your hands. He could want to watch the white clouds again and listen to his cattle lowing in the fields and know he could come home to a hot meal.
Mugeta cried while he prayed, that Allah be beneficient and merciful, that he forgive him his cruelty.
That night, the two of them slept on pallets warmed from underneath, an innovation the Easterners called “Kang,” joking in their own language about Kumbai's ignorance in their own language after they told him what it was in Swahili.
The next morning, Mugeta was awoken by a loudspeaker blaring something in the Easterner’s tounge in the courtyard of the biggest building, sounding like the squaking of a bird or a wounded animal…the Easterns certainly could have used some training in Swahili, he thought vaguel as he rolled over to wake Kumbai for their trip on the long-cart.
....
That night, for the first time, Mugeta and Kambui slept without once hearing the lowing of cattle, but more than once they awoke, frightened by the chugging of the long-carts passing down the track.
They ran for four days, living off canteens and tiny savannah-lakes before they came to the town of Ijat Mukui, two dozen white plaster-and-brick buildings clustered around the railroad tracks, and, of course, old-style huts, almost but not quite like the ones in Ibyati Musu.
“Look, Mugeta! You see those buildings! Look at the way they shine!” Kambui was so excited he almost dropped his canteen while he took a swig.
Mugeta, though, was not impressed. “I went once to Udia to get a doctor, and they had larger buildings there, and brighter…” He trailed off, staring down the long-cart track at the town.
“Come on, Mugeta. It is a place where no one knows us, and I did not tell you, but the Yusai,”
Mugeta spoke loudly for the first time in a week, cutting his brother off.
“…that means the Easterners have soldiers here. Those are not our buildings, see the funny roof? Don’t talk about the blood of the Yusai or anything else.”
“Oh, come on Mugeta. I have their money and my vengance. I didn’t tell you, but the Yusai had a stash of Easterner currency, I threw it in the bag when we ran from the old men and now we can use it to run on the long-carts instead of beside them.”
Mugeta gave him a long, hard look and started walking towards Ijat Mukui. Kambui shouldered his rifle and caught up.
“Mugeta, you have not talked to me for two days, and now you aren’t happy to hear we have money?”
“The Easterners will be looking for us, and that frightens me.”
“But Ibyati Musu is five days from here and more. Why would the Easterners here look for us?”
“All the Easterners serve the Big Dragon, and so wherever we go, if one Easterner would want us, they all would.”
“The Big Dragon is just a word they use for their city-headmen, come on…”
This was a familiar debate (who the Easterners served), and the two brothers seemed like a normal pair of joking hunters, almost, as they walked into Ijak Mukui, and only someone who looked very close could have picked out the stains on their rifle butts for what they were.
The day passed in a blur – in the largest building of the town, a kind of grand hall, they had a meal to celebrate their safe arrival, and bought tickets with the polite Easterner who ran the long-cart station.
There were soldiers, surely, but perhaps no word had come around to this town yet, for their pictures were not up on the walls of the Hegemony Rail Office, nor did anyone stop them.
Prayer was called that night, and both of them attended, forgetful as they had been ever since that black and shameful night when their sister had died. For Kumbai, prayer was a relief, and he chanted along with the fatiha happily, bowing and praying and watching the sky turn black as the sun sank across the savannah.
But the sinking sun brought little comfort to Mugeta as he prayed silently, bowing lower and lower and raising himself less and less, until he was curled silently before the singing of the prayer-leader.
He thought of his home, the bright huts in his mind now tinged with the dark, blackening red that had caked his hands after the killing.
Ayele had taken her. He had destroyed her honor. He was a devil, his clan were unredeemed and never attended prayer, he stole her beautiful face and he killed her. His clan had helped him hide the crime, and they had flaunted it before Mugeta and Kumbai. They had deserved what he and Kumbai gave them.
But now he could remember the sick feeling of another man’s life cracking under your hands. He could want to watch the white clouds again and listen to his cattle lowing in the fields and know he could come home to a hot meal.
Mugeta cried while he prayed, that Allah be beneficient and merciful, that he forgive him his cruelty.
That night, the two of them slept on pallets warmed from underneath, an innovation the Easterners called “Kang,” joking in their own language about Kumbai's ignorance in their own language after they told him what it was in Swahili.
The next morning, Mugeta was awoken by a loudspeaker blaring something in the Easterner’s tounge in the courtyard of the biggest building, sounding like the squaking of a bird or a wounded animal…the Easterns certainly could have used some training in Swahili, he thought vaguel as he rolled over to wake Kumbai for their trip on the long-cart.
This is cool, but I'm having some trouble translating this into game terms in my head.
Do you get a lot of revolts in your African holdings?
Do you get a lot of revolts in your African holdings?
This doesn't translate into game terms. Through the story of these two individuals, I'm trying to demonstrate that:
1) Chinese rule has become an accepted fact, and even institionalized into, the world of Swahili Africa.
2) Chinese impact has been almost entirely limited to railroads and administrative posts.
3) Traditional agriculture has become a little more settled, but on the whole there hasn't been a lot of urbanization.
4) Most people in the countryside, due to the lack of invasiveness of Chinese administraiton there, have only changed their lives a little.
We'll see what life is like elsewhere, in the cities of Celestial Africa, though.
Where should they flee to: Addis Abba, or Dar Es Salaam?
-Adso
1) Chinese rule has become an accepted fact, and even institionalized into, the world of Swahili Africa.
2) Chinese impact has been almost entirely limited to railroads and administrative posts.
3) Traditional agriculture has become a little more settled, but on the whole there hasn't been a lot of urbanization.
4) Most people in the countryside, due to the lack of invasiveness of Chinese administraiton there, have only changed their lives a little.
We'll see what life is like elsewhere, in the cities of Celestial Africa, though.
Where should they flee to: Addis Abba, or Dar Es Salaam?
-Adso
As the current writer of an Ethiopia AAR, in the Vicky time period, I'd have to say Addis Abbaba.
Henry v. Keiper said:Dar Es Salaam
Do not betray me, Henry v. Keiper! I own your soul!
I was thinking, and I realized that I don't know what the rest of the world looks like.
I seem to remember you saying that you don't have access to the game right now, but when you do it would be very interesting to see what the rest of the world looks like: is Germany united? How does South America look? Africa?
I seem to remember you saying that you don't have access to the game right now, but when you do it would be very interesting to see what the rest of the world looks like: is Germany united? How does South America look? Africa?
Wilhelm VI said:
ditto
nomination - one of the greatest Vicky aar's ever. I would hate to have to play a Japan versus your China in single or MP.
Though would they should have done was taken advantage of the Great Tragedy and invaded Korea, Manchuria, and then China itself. That would have given you a run for your money perhaps.BTW, why not give India some freedom as a sattelite?
Brother Adso, this is phenominal! You put my own AH mods to shame, and you've written a rich AAR about it!
I'd love to see the mod you made for this, as you've given me a real yen to play as this china!
Regards,
fasquardon
I'd love to see the mod you made for this, as you've given me a real yen to play as this china!
Regards,
fasquardon
Adso has not been around in the past year, but you are right -- this IS a classic!fasquardon said:
This is one of the first AARs I read when I first came to the forums. It was being updated back then.
Good to see it back on top of the pile! Thanks, Fasquardon... Have a look around!
Rensslaer
It was three days short of being three years without any replies, it's most probably dead.
