'Take your jacket off,' she instructed as she handed it to him. 'I want you relaxed and casual. 'She led him to the two facing chairs and while he sipped his whisky she lulled him with an amusing account of the flight out which had been delayed by bad weather in London for eight hours. Then Hank gave her the signal and she said sweetly: 'Shasa Courtney, since the turn of this century your family has been a traditional ally of General Smuts. He was a personal friend of your grandfather, and your mother. He was a frequent guest in your house, and sponsored your own entry into the political arena. Now you have turned your back on the United Party which he led, and have deserted the fundamental principles of decency and fair play towards the coloured citizens of this country which were so much a part of General Smuts' philosophy. You have been called a deserter and a turncoat - and worse. Do you think that is a fair description, and if not, why not?' The attack was so swift and savage that for a moment it checked him, but he had known what to expect, and he grinned. He knew he was going to enjoy this.
'General Smuts was a great man, but not quite as saintly towards the natives as you suppose. In all the time he was in power, their political status remained unchanged, and when they stepped out of line, he did not hesitate before sending in the troops and giving them a whiff of grape. Have you ever heard of the Bondelswart rebellion and the Bulhoek massacre?' 'You are suggesting that Smuts also oppressed the native people of this country?' 'No more than a strict headmaster oppresses his children. In the main, he never seriously addressed himself to the coloured question.
He left that for a future generation to settle. We are that future generation.' 'All right, so what are you going to do about the black people of this country who outnumber you nearly four to one and have no political rights whatsoever in the land of their birth?' 'Firstly, we will try to avoid the trap of simplistic thinking.' 'Can you explain that?' Kitty frowned. She didn't want him to wriggle out of her grip by using vague terminology. 'Give us a concrete example of simplistic thinking.' He nodded. 'You glibly use the terms black people and white people, dividing this population into two separate, if unequal, portions. That is dangerous. It might work in America. If all the American blacks were given white faces they would be simply Americans and think of themselves as that--' 'You are suggesting that this is not the case in Africa?' 'I am indeed,' Shasa agreed. 'If all the blacks in this country were given white faces, they would still think of themselves as Zulus and Xhosas and Vendas, and we would still be English and Afrikaners very little would have altered.' Kitty didn't like that, it was not what she wanted to tell her audiences.
'So, of course, you are ruling out the idea of a democracy in this country. You will never accept the policy of one man one vote, but will always aspire to white domination--' Shasa cut in on her quickly. 'One man one vote would lead not to the black government you seem to foresee, but to a Zulu government, for the Zulus outnumber any other group. We would have a Zulu dictator, like good old King Chaka, and that would be a thrilling experience.' 'So what is your solution?' she demanded, hiding her irritation behind that little-girl smile. 'Is it white baasskap, white domination and savage oppression backed by an all-white army and police force --9.' 'I don't know the solution,' he cut her off. 'It's something we have to work towards, but I expect it will be a system in which every tribal group, whether it be black, brown or white, can maintain its identity and its territorial integrity.' 'What a noble concept,' she agreed. 'But tell me when, in the history of mankind, any group who enjoyed supreme political power over all others ever gave up that power without an armed struggle.
Do you truly believe the white South Africans will be the first?' 'We'll have to make our own history,' Shasa matched her honeyed smile. 'But in the meantime theanaterial existence of the black people in this country is five or six times better than any other on the African continent. More is spent on black education, black hospitals and black housing, per capita, than in any other African country.' 'How does the expenditure per capita on black education compare with expenditure on white education?' Kitty shot back at him. 'My information is that five times more is spent on the education of a white child, than on a black.' 'We will strive to correct that imbalance, as we build up the wealth of our nation, as the black peasant becomes more productive and makes more of a contribution to the taxation that pays for that education. At the moment the white section of the population pays ninety-five percent of the taxes --' That wasn't the way the interview was meant to go and Kitty headed him off smoothly.
'And just how and when will the black people be consulted in these changes? Is it fair to say that nearly all blacks, and certainly all the educated and skilled blacks who are the natural leaders, totally reject the present political system which allows one sixth of the population to decide the fate of the rest?' They were still sparring when Hank lifted his head from the camera lens, and rolled his eyes.
'Out of film, Kitty, you told me twenty minutes tops. We have forty-five minutes in the can.' 'Okay, Hank. My fault. I didn't realize we had such a garrulous bigot on the show.' She smiled at Shasa acidly. 'You can wrap it up, Hank, and I'll see you in the morning. Nine o'clock at the studio.' She turned back to Shasa and they didn't even look up as Hank left the suite. 'So what did we decide?' she asked Shasa.
'That the problem is more complex than anybody, perhaps even we in government, realize.' 'Insoluble?' Kitty asked.
'Certainly - without delicacy and the utmost good will of everybody in the country, and our friends abroad.' 'Russia?' she teased him, and he shuddered.
'Britain,' he said.
'What about America?' 'No. Britain understands. America is too wrapped up in her own racial problems. They aren't interested in the dissolution of the British Empire. However, we have always stood by Britain - and now Britain will stand by us.' 'Your confidence in the gratitude of great nations is refreshing.
However, I think you will find that in the next decade there will be an enormous rip-tide of concern over human rights emanating from the United States. At least I hope so - and North American _.Broadcasting -Studios- -will - be--doing all-in its-power to- build it up into a tidal wave.' 'Your job is to report reality, not to attempt to re- structure it,' Shasa told her. 'You are a reporter, not the God of judgement.' 'If you believe that, you are naive,' she smiled. 'We make and destroy kings.' Shasa stared at her, as though he were seeing her for the first time.
'My God, you are in the power game, just like everybody else.' 'It's the only game in town, buddy boy.' 'You are amoral.' 'No more than you are.' 'Oh yes you are. We are prepared to make our decisions and live with the consequences. You wreak your'destruction, then like a child with a broken toy, throw it aside and go on without a moment's remorse to some new cause that will sell more advertising time.' He had made her angry. Her eyes slanted and narrowed into brigl arrowheads and the freckles on her nose and cheeks glowed ll specks of gold leaf. It roused him to see her come out from behm the screen, as hard and formidable as any adversary he had ev faced. He wanted to goad her further, to make her give way con pletely.
'You have made yourself the guru of southern Africa on US tek vision for one reason only. Not for concern over the fate of th black masses, but quite simply because you smell blood and violenc in the air. You have sensed that this is where the action will be the and you want to be the one who captures it on film--' 'You bastard,' she hissed at him. 'I want peace and justice.' 'Peace and justice don't make good footage, Kitty my love. You or here to record the killing and the screaming - and if it doesn't happe] soon enough, well that is easily fixed - you'll give it a little shove.' She was out of her chair now, facing him, and her lips were frost' with rage.
'For the last hour you have been spouting the most vicious racia poison, and now you accuse me of injustice. You call me an agen provocateur for the violence that is coming.' He raised an eyebrow, giving her the taunting supercilious smih which had enraged his opponents across the floor of the House, an( it was too much for her to bear. She sprang at him, white-lipped ant shaking with fury, and she clawed for his single mocking eye wit both
