Roosevelt paused long enough for his words to be translated, then smiled and nodded as the row of chiefs rose to their feet and cheered wildly, followed, somewhat less enthusiastically, by the Europeans.
“Thank you, my friends,” he continued when the chiefs finally sat down. “We who have been fortunate enough to help in the birth of the Congo Free State have great plans for its future.” He smiled triumphantly. “Great plans, indeed!” he repeated emphatically.
“Within two years, we will extend the East African Railway from its present terminus in Uganda all the way to Stanleyville, and within another year to Leopoldville. This will give us access to the Indian Ocean, as the Congo River gives us access to the Atlantic, and with the modern farming methods we plan to introduce, we will shortly be shipping exports in great quantity to both coasts.”
There was more applause, a little less rabid this time, as most of the chiefs had only the haziest understanding of an economy that extended beyond their own tribes.
“We will construct public schools throughout the country,” Roosevelt added. “Our goal is nothing less than 100 % literacy by the year 1930.”
This time the applause came only from the chiefs, as the whites in the audience looked openly skeptical.
“We will soon begin the construction of modern hospitals in every major city in the Congo Free State,” continued Roosevelt, “and no citizen shall ever again want for medical care. American engineers will build dams the length of the Congo River, so that we can generate all the electricity that a modern nation will need. While leaving vast tracts of land untouched as national parks and game reserves, we will nonetheless criss-cross the country with a network of roads, so that no village, no matter how remote, remains inaccessible.”
He paused and glared at the disbelieving white faces in his audience.
“We will do everything I have said,” he concluded. “And we will do it sooner than you think!”
The assembled chiefs began cheering and jumping around in their enthusiasm, and the remainder of the audience, sensing that he had concluded the major part of his address, applauded politely. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will all rise, we will, for the very first time, raise the flag of the Congo Free State.” He turned to Boyes. “Mr. Boyes?”
Boyes withdrew the folded flag that he had been carrying inside his morning coat, waited for an honor guard of khaki-clad native soldiers to approach, and solemnly handed the flag over to their leader. The soldiers then marched to a recently-erected flagpole near the platform, and began raising a banner that depicted the colorful shields of twenty of the major tribes arranged in a pattern on a field of green, while Yank Rogers, who had been unable to create a national anthem on two days notice, played a military march on his ancient bugle. Roosevelt stood at attention and saluted, Boyes and the chiefs followed suit, and the reporters, politicians, and dignitaries were quick to rise to their feet as well.
When the flag had been raised and the rope secured at the base of the flagpole, Roosevelt faced the crowd once more.
“I have been selected, by the unanimous consent of the tribes that are represented here today, to draft and implement a democratic constitution for the Congo Free State. During this time I shall hold the office of Chief Administrator, an office that will be abolished when the first national election is held one year from today. At that time all the people of the Congo Free State, regardless of race or gender, will choose their own President and legislature, and their destiny will finally be in their own hands.”
He stared out at the audience.
“I thank you for your attendance at this historic ceremony. Lunch will be provided for everyone on the lawn, and I will be available for interviews throughout the afternoon.”
He climbed down from the platform to one last round of applause, finally allowed them a look at the famed Roosevelt grin, waited for Boyes to join him, and disappeared into the interior of the state house.
“How was I, John?” he asked anxiously.
“I thought you were excellent, Mr. President,” answered Boyes truthfully.
“Mr. Chief Administrator, you mean,” Roosevelt corrected him. Suddenly he smiled. “Although by this time you certainly know me well enough to call me Teddy. Everyone else does.”
“I think I prefer Mr. President,” replied Boyes. “I’m used to it.”
Roosevelt shrugged, then looked out the window as the crowd began lining up at the long buffet tables.
“They don’t think I can do it, do they, John?”
“No, sir, they don’t,” answered Boyes honestly.
“Well, they’d be correct if I applied their outmoded methods,” said Roosevelt. He drew himself up to his full height. “However, this is a new century. We have new technologies, new methods, and new outlooks.”
“But this is an old country,” said Boyes.
“What is that supposed to mean, John?”
“Just that it might not be ready for your new approach, Mr. President.”
“You saw the chiefs out there, John,” said Roosevelt. “They’re my strongest supporters.”
“It’s in their best interest to be,” said Boyes. “After all, you’ve promised them the moon.”
“And I’ll deliver it,” said Roosevelt resolutely.
Boyes walked into the state house and was ushered into Roosevelt’s office.
“Where have you been, John?” asked Roosevelt. “I expected you back three days ago.”
“It took a little longer than I thought to set up my trading company,” answered Boyes. “But if your laborers ever arrive, at least they won’t starve to death. I’ve got commitments for flour and meat.”
“What are you trading for them?”
“Iodine,” answered Boyes. “That’s what took me so long. My shipment was late arriving from Nairobi.”
“Iodine?” repeated Roosevelt, curious.
Boyes smiled. “There are some infections even a witch doctor can’t cure.” He sat down in a leather chair opposite Roosevelt’s desk, looking quite pleased with himself. “An ounce of iodine for thirty pounds of flour or one hundred pounds of meat.”
“That’s immoral, John. Those people need that medication.”
“Our people will need that food,” answered Boyes.
“My hospitals will put you out of business,” said Roosevelt sternly. “We will never withhold treatment despite a patient’s inability to pay for it.”
“When you build your hospitals, I’ll find something else to trade them,” said Boyes with a shrug. He decided to change the subject. “I hear you held your first local election while I was gone. How did it go?”
“I would call it a limited success.”
“Oh?”
“It was a trial run, so to speak,” said Roosevelt. “We selected a district at random and tried to show them how an election works.” He paused. “We had a turnout of almost ninety percent, which is certainly very promising.”
“Let me guess about the unpromising part,” said Boyes. “Your candidates didn’t get a single crossover vote.”
Roosevelt nodded his head grimly. “The vote went one hundred percent along tribal lines.”