“We know. I suppose you want Outram to regroup American Black military personnel into separate units and ship them to Africa?”
“Yes. First you’ll have to send in bacteriological warfare teams to make sure Black Pacov is gone. And to move any surviving pockets of Whites and immunes out of our way.”
“We’ll face stiff opposition. The Israelis think they own Africa, and their Jewish lobbies will squeal like stuck pigs, to use a very un-Kosher phrase.”
“The Izzies’ main occupation forces have left. You can’t blame them for being scared of contagion. If we do it right, we can occupy parts of Africa farthest away from Israel… West Africa… before they can return. Several mostly-Black military units are already in the works… oh, Outram thinks he’s clever, but it doesn’t take much to figure him out… and they can be sent to Europe and from there to Dakar, Lagos, and other places as ‘relief teams.’ By the time the Izzies get their dinks up again, we’ll be dug in. They won’t want a whango with us, not with American Black troops armed with the latest weapons the U.S.A. has… and not with southern Russia to pick over for free!”
“South Africa’s already sending aid to some of the areas north of them.”
“We won’t be in their way. They’re down south, in Zimbabwe and Botswana. They can keep their Siegfried Line… for now. Later we may be able to figure out some sort of deal for them, too, just as we’re proposing one now for ourselves.”
Morgan made a steeple of his fingers. “How could it work? Not only because of White South Africa. Most American Blacks won’t join you. Hell, the majority’s not even Muslim. They’re Christians, agnostics, ordon’t-give-a-damns.”
“First things first. We, the Community of Allah Almighty, occupy West Africa. We discourage the Israelis from grabbing Lebensraum… you recognize the word?… for themselves. We establish bases, bring in our settlers, and set up an economy with your help. As we grow, we encourage our brothers and sisters here to join us, either in our Dar-ul-Islam or in states of their own. Christians, Muslims, Rastafarians, Voodoo-Dawn, Free Pagans… none of our people will want to slay in this country once your Party of Humankind gets control. Staraks already taken out the biggest Black concentrations in the eastern cities, and I think you’ll agree that it’s easier now to disentangle our people from yours than ever before… or probably ever again. We think the majority of American Blacks will be eager to live in a land that is completely ours, where we can achieve our spiritual and cultural zenith just as you want to reach yours here.”
“What prevents you from turning on us once you’ve got your Islamic state?”
“You don’t give yourselves credit, Mr. Morgan. Everybody knows that Whitey can always beat up on a gang of watermelon-munchin’ Darkies.”
“God damn it!”
“Sorry. I forgot. No insults. Let’s just say that we’re willing to coexist once we’re free and clear. We don’t want a whango with you, not while you’ve got your nuclear hardware. War and destruction don’t do either of us any good. We can help you in the Third World, too. Europe’s thumbed for the next decade or so, but a lot of Asia’s left, ready to grab off markets and territory and compete. We can work together; after all, we’re culturally closer to you White Americans, like it or not, than to those foreign peoples. You’ll have a ‘While America’ here, and we’ll have a ‘Black America ‘ in Africa. Cooperate, and we’ll survive together, separate but equal… and allied for the future. This way we both achieve the highest potential of our different ethnos groups, to borrow Mr. Vincent Dom’s fancy phraseology.”
“We’ll have to talk it over. It’ll take time.”
“We don’t have lime. We have to block the Izzies from retaking Africa… and gobbling up Europe and Asia and the world!”
Morgan chewed his lip dubiously. “God… interesting idea. Um. But I doubt whether many Blacks will go play pioneer with you. We’d like them to leave, but will they? They’re comfortable where they are. A lot have homes, jobs… good jobs… education, health and social services, pensions. Many are integrated into their communities.”
“We assumed you… Outram’s friends… are going to ‘Mrtintegrate’ them… or maybe ‘disintegrate’ them?” The Khalifa chuckled. “Forgive the joke. It’s true that our peoplehave jobs, food, services… sure… but they’ve never been truly equal, never an integral part of your world. They’re not happy here. Things’ve changed since 01’ Massah laid down the whip back in 1865, but a whole lot of civil rights reforms are cosmetic; you know that, and we know it. ‘Equal rights! ‘“He pursed his lips. “In some ways we’re worse off now than when we were pluckin’ banjoes down on the levee. The White majority holds the reins of power, and that’s how it’s going to stay. Blacks who ‘fit’ are accepted to some extent, but never all the way… in spite of efforts to turn us into ‘lovable neighbors’ and ‘good buddies’… and lately ‘acceptable’ husbands, wives, and lovers… on TV. We aren’t happy being a sort of neutral grey, and we know you folks don’t want that either.” “You know who really holds the ‘reins of power.’” “Sure. We agree on the Hymies… but back to Dar-ul-Islam. Let’s just say that most of those Blacks who are ‘comfortable’ here will see the writing… should I say the swastika?… on the wall, and they’ll hotfoot it off to us in Africa. You’ll offer incentives, of course: capital and goods to get us started there. A Black, Islamic state in our ancestral continent will bring most of our people over to us. First, the North American Blacks, then later perhaps those from Brazil and the Caribbean… if they can fit into our ethnos, so to speak.”
“Some won’t leave. What do we… you… do about them? Nobody wants a race war!”
“You can keep the Uncle Toms!” One of the Khalifa’s aides sneered. Lessing’s men were not the only ones who would be chewed out for breaking discipline!
The Khalifa ignored theoutburst. “Most’ll come over eventually. We’ll help you persuade them. But you’ll never achieve the Japanese ‘one race, one nation, one language’ ideal. There’ll always be holdouts: Blacks, Chicanos, Chinese, Viets, Afghans… Irishmen. You can deport them by force, if you want. That’s exactly what we intend to do with any stubborn Whiles left in our Dar-ul-Islam. We can agree to take in each other’s undesirables.”
Morgan smiled at Jameela beside him. “We hope we won’t have to deport anybody forcibly. We believe that when everyone understands our ideas they’ll see the advantages of associating themselves with their own ethnos groups. We believe “
The Khalifa interrupted, “I won’t lecture you on Islamic brother-hood if you don’t preach Mr. Dom’s ideas at me.”
“What about the ‘coffee-‘n’-creams’?” one of Lessing’s men, a heavy-set veteran soldier named Joe Gumey, put in. “The racial mixes?”
“The Islamic state is welcome to them,” Morgan answered bluntly.
“We’re all of mixed blood,” the Khalifa chided. “Black slaves and German warriors in the Roman empire, Syrian legions posted out to Britain, Celts living in North Africa, Moors in Spain, the Crusades, the American Indians… more fool’tn’ around on the Southern plantations than most Whites like to admit. Will everybody have to fill out a genealogy all the way back to Adam?”
“Absolute racial purity is impossible,” Morgan conceded. “Only isolated populations like the Japanese or the Australian aborigines are anything like ‘pure’ in the scientific sense. Anthropologists trace the human race back to certain closely related varieties of hominids… Australopithecus, Ramapithecus… every year they find another fossil to crow over. These, they claim, interbred, mutated, evolved, or whatever to produce ‘modem man.’ What you can’t say in public is that Homo sapiens in fact consists of several sub-species, each with its own distinctive genetic make-up and unique psychological profile. It’s true that we’re mixed, but our sub-species are still clearly separate. We believe these ought to be kept that way, just as a good breeder doesn’t male a prize Dachshund with the Labrador down the street.”