A Time to Die - Smith Wilbur (читать книги полные .txt) 📗

Alphonso shook his head. That was beyond belief-, no African could ever tire of beef.

"How much does a black man earn in South Africa?" he demanded.

About five hundred rand a month if he is an ordinary unskilled laborer, but there are many black millionaires,." Five hundred rand was more than a man earned in Mozambique in a year, even if he were lucky enough to find employment. A million was a figure beyond Alphonso's powers of imagination.

"Five hundred?" He shook his head in wonder. "And paid in rands, not paper escudos or Zimbabwe dollars?" he demanded earnestly.

"Rands," Sean confirmed. Compared to other African currencies, the rand was as good as a gold sovereign.

"And there are things in the stores, things for a man to buy with his rands?" Alphonso demanded suspiciously. It was difficult lo r him to visualize shelves laden with goods for sale, other than a few pathetic bottles of locally produced carbonated soft drinks and packets of cheap cigarettes.

"Whatever you want," Sean assured him. "Soap and sugar, cooking oil, and maize meal." Half-forgotten luxuries in Alphonso's mind.

"As much as I want?" he asked. "No rationing?"

"As much as you can pay for," Sean assured him. "And when sistor your belly is full, you can buy shoes and suits and ties, transister radios and dark glasses-"

"A bicycle?" Alphonso demanded eagerly.

"Only the very lowest men ride bicycles." Sean grinned, enjoying himself. "The others have their own motorcars."

"Black men own their own motorcars?" Alphonso thought about that for a long time. "Would there be work for a man like me?" he asked with a diffidence that was completely out of character.

You?" Sean pretended to consider it, and Alphonso waited apprehensively for his judgment. "You?" Sean repeated. "My brother owns a gold mine. You could be a supervisor on his mine within a year, a shift boss in two years. I could get you a job the same day you arrived at the mine."

"How much does a supervisor earn?"

"thousand, two thousand," Sean assured him. Alphonso was A stunned. His Renamo pay was the equivalent of a rand a day, paid in Mozambican escudos.

"I would like to be a boss supervisor," he murmured thoughtfully.

ant?" Sean teased. Alphonso char' Better than a Renamo serge tied derisively.

"Of course, in South Africa you would not have the vote," Sean efaces get to vote."

ribbed him. "Only pal Vote, what is a vote?" Alphonso demanded, then answered t have the himself. "I don't have a vote in Mozambique. They don" vote in Zambia or Zimbabwe or Angola or Tanzania. Nobody has the vote in Africa, except. perhaps once in a man's life to elect a president-for-life and a one-party government." He shook his head and snorted. "Vote? You can't eat a vote. You can't dress in a or ride to work on it. F or two thousand rand a month and vote, a full belly you can have my vote."

"Anytime you come to South Africa, You come and see me."

d see the trees against Sean stretched and looked at the sky. He could it. Dawn was only a short time away. He crushed out the butt of the cigarette and began to get to his feet.

"There is something I must tell you," Alphonso whispered. His altered tone caught Sean's full attention.

"Yes?" He squatted down again and leaned closer to the Shangane.

Alphonso cleared his throat in embarrassment. "We have traveled a long road together," he murmured.

"A long, hard road," Sean agreed. "But the end is in sight. This time tomorrow-" He did not have to go on, and Alphonso did not reply immediately.

"We have fought side by side," Alphonso said at last.

"Like lions," Sean confirmed.

"I have called you Babo and Nkosi Kakulu."

"You have honored me thus," Sean said formally. "And I have called you friend."

Alphonso nodded in the darkness. "I cannot let you cross the Zimbabwean border," he said with sudden decisiveness, and Sean rocked back on his heels.

"Tell me why not."

"You remember Cuthbert?" Alphonso asked.

It took Sean a moment to place the name. "Cuthbert, you mean the one from Grand Reef air base? The one who helped us on the raid?" It all seemed so long ago.

"General China's nephew." Alphonso nodded. "That is the one I speak of."

"Sammy Davis Junior." Sean smiled. "The cool laid-back cat.

I remember him well."

"General China spoke to him on the radio. This very morning from the laager of the hen shaw after our victory. I was in the outer room of the bunker. I heard everything he said."

Sean felt a cold wind blow down his spine, and the hair at the base of his skull prickled. "What did China tell him?" he asked dreading the reply.

"He ordered Cuthbert to let the Zimbabwean Army know that it was you who led the raid on Grand Reef and stole the indeki full of missiles. He told Cuthbert to tell them that you would be ssing k into Zimbabwe through the Honde Valley at Saint ary's Mission, and they must wait for you there."