ALL NOVEL Song 65: Low Tide
Human societies have thrived around water. Whether they were born in coastal or Mesopotamian regions, the presence of water alone has made civilizations thrive. The absence of this precious resource meant that human groups continued on their semi-nomadic path. Ilu Nla was no exception.
Born from the gatherings of various peoples on the west coast of Africa, the metropolis covers some twenty-five thousand square kilometers. Added to its suburbs and countryside, the nation is even larger. The metropolitan region emerged from an accelerated process of conurbation of four major cities.
Bathed by the Atlantic Ocean, it has become a port region of excellence. It drained the production of raw ore from Central Africa, as well as being one of the export gateways for consumer goods. After its economic miracle twenty years ago, it became a regional hub for science and technology. Ilu Nla became the most advanced producer of military cyber technology.
All this was protected by two aircraft carriers and a navy that watched every move. Nuclear submarines patrolled the depths of the ocean. All to guarantee the sovereignty of the metropolis.
It was by this same sea that illegal immigrants tried to find a new life in Africa. Many remained in Ilu Nla, catering for demographic immigration. Most of them came from Western Europe, devastated by the NATO-Eurasia War, which was triggered by Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Others came from the USA after the Texas War of Independence.
This was the same route that Spin Bomb, Feruzi and Mashal used to enter Ilu Nla. Receiving a handsome bribe, a small group of coastguards turned a blind eye to the trio. Sympathizers of the urban guerrillas brought them to one of the ports. They were escorted safely outside. Mashal said goodbye to them.
"Thank you, comrades. You are on the right side of history."
"May our ancestors write their words in our present. Make the revolution!"
Spin Bomb found the whole thing very cheesy. It sounded like a Cold War B-movie. She had never been interested in politics, and she wasn't a very idealistic young woman. There was no point in complaining, she was up to her neck in it.
She walked through the streets following the pair of hooded men. They were careful not to take busy roads or monitor systems. She was back in Ilu Nla, no longer as a citizen, but as an intruder. The mother country was her enemy now. She couldn't understand or accept that. Power games made the social body the enemy of the state. The latter was the lawyer, the judge and the executioner.
After a long walk, they arrived at an abandoned apartment. Feruzi looked for a house with a specific mark above the door. It was a sign that there were sympathizers of the cause in that house. They found one in an old fisherman's hut by the sea. An elderly couple lived there.
The furniture was sparse. The place seemed squeezed by residential areas that were growing on all sides. The old couple welcomed them and prepared soup. They served the ex-sages and her with great reverence. It seemed as if they were being visited by nobles. Curious, Spin Bomb asked:
"Thank you for the soup, it was delicious. Gentlemen, I'm sorry to ask, but why do you still live in this house? There are so many uninhabited houses in the condominiums nearby. It might be safer."
The elderly couple smiled at their visitor's naivety. It was the little lady who answered Spin Bomb.
"My daughter, we appreciate your concern. My old man and I have been fishermen for many years. It's the only life we know. The real estate agents tried to take our house. They made us absurd offers and even threatened us. We stand firm and strong, this is our place."
"But… you're still at risk! In addition to the house, there are dangerous people who want to take it over."
The gentleman gave a hearty laugh interspersed with coughs. His old wife came up to him and wiped his sweaty forehead with a cloth.
"These uninhabited houses are one of our problems. The builders have received a lot of investment from the government. Many people buy four or even five houses still on the drawing board. Property prices go up day in, day out, not to mention the theft of rents. As long as Ojwang is in power, nothing will change. He and all the cretins around him are the real problem."
"That's why they help the guerrillas?"
"Yes, my son said it was a waste of time. The vain hopes of two old fishermen…"
The man fell silent. His eyes turned watery. He put both hands to his eyes to stop the tears coming out. His wife hugged him as if she were cradling a child. Spin Bomb didn't want to know how much pain was hidden in that cry, but he unconsciously asked:
"Where is he?"
"He's no longer with us, my child. He was one of the leaders of the local cooperative. He organized a protest against predatory fishing by some companies. The police were called in to quell the demonstrations. She died of a gunshot wound. They claimed it was a stray bullet. I've never liked that term. A gun doesn't fire by itself, you need your hand to…"
The woman said no more. She didn't need to. Mashal and Feruzi, who knew the story, made no comment.
The rest of the night was one of silence and reflection. The firework sword maker didn't sleep. A glimmer of moonlight came through the roof of rotten beams and misaligned tiles. No matter which side of the wall she was on, violence was omnipresent. The drowsiness made the girl thirsty.
A feeling of suffocation in her chest kept her lying down. She only found uneasy sleep at dawn. She was woken up by Mashal. The ex-sage offered her a mug of coffee. They ate coconut cookies. The man left some money for the old couple. The trio went out into the streets before the sun filled the sidewalks with its rays.
They couldn't stay in these places for long to avoid suspicion from the neighborhood. A single complaint that reached the right ears would put the whole movement at risk. They drove through the city until they met a sympathizer who drove an aeromobile by app. The man took the southeast route to Ilu Nla, the headquarters of the Ilu Nla Liberation Movement.