studied him ynth big, solemn eyes, not smilin& taking her time until he was forced to ask, 'Well, do I get the Monterro seal of approval.P'
'Oh, boy!' she breathed, still deadly sen ious and he lifted her onto the bed.
it was darkening outside the dugout when Joyful coughed politely beyond the screen doorway. 'Dinner is ready, sir and madam.'
They ate at the table of mo pane poles by the light of a paraffin lantern that Joyful had scavenged from somewhere.
'Oh, MY God!' Claudia cried when she saw what Joyful had provided for them. 'I didn't realize how hungry I was.'
It was a casserole of plump green pigeons and wild mushrooms, with side dishes of steamed yellow yams, cassava cakes, and banana fritters.
'General China sent this for you,' Joyful explained, and set cans of South African beer on the crowded table.
'Joyful, you are a paragon.' le at each They ate in dedicated silence, smiling across the tab other between mouthfuls. At last Claudia groaned softly.
'I think I can just waddle as far as the bed, but definitely no further.
'Suits me fine,' he said, and reached across to take her hand.
The mosquito net was a tent over them, creating an intimate and secret temple for their loving. The light from the lantern was soft and golden. It washed subtle tones and shadings across the planes of her face and the rounds and hollows of her body. The texture of her skin fascinated him. It was so fine-pored as to seem glossed like warm wax. He stroked her shoulders and arms and belly, marveling at the feel of her.
She rasped her fingernails through his short crisp beard and her face into the springing curls that covered his chest.
pressed 'You're as hairy and hard as a wild animal,' she whispered. 'And as dangerous. I should be terrified of you.'
I 'Aren't you? 'A little, yes. That's what makes it such fun.'
She was starved to the point where her ribs showed clearly through her pale skin. Her limbs were slender and childlike, and the marks of her suffering upon them threatened to break his heart.
Even her breasts seemed smaller, but it was as though their diminution had merely emphasized the sweet and tender shape. She watched him take the nipple of one between his bps, and she stroked the thick curls at the back of his neck.
'That feels so good,' she whispered. 'But there are two.' And she took a handful of his hair to direct his mouth across to the other side.
Once while she sat astride him, he looked up at her, reached high to stroke the soft skin of her throat and shoulders, and said, 'In this light, you look like a little girl.'
'And me trying so hard to prove to you what a big girl I am,' she pouted down at him, then leaned forward to kiss his mouth.
They slept so intricately entwined that their hearts beat against each other and their breath mingled and they woke to find that they had begun again while they still slept.
'He's so clever,' she murmured drowsily. 'Already he can find his way all on his own.'
'Do you want to go back to sleep?'
'Do I, hell!'
Much later she asked him, 'Do you think we could make this last forever?'
'We can try.'
But at last the dawn sent orange-gold fingers of light through the slats above them, and Claudia cried softly. 'No. I don't want it to end. I want to keep you inside me for ever and ever.'
When Joyful brought their tea to their bedside, on the tray with the mugs was an invitation from General China to dine in the mess that evening.
For Claudia and Sean General China's mess night was less than an unqualified success, despite the general's continued efforts to charm them.
The buffalo meat he served was tough and rank, and the beer made the officers of the general's staff loud and argumentative.
The weather had changed and was close and sweltering even after dark, and the bunker the4t served as a mess was thick with the smoke of cheap native tobacco and the odor of masculine sweat.
General China drank none of the beer. He sat at the head of the table, ignoring the shouted conversation and hearty eating habits of his staff. Instead he played the gallant to Claudia, engaging her in a discussion that at first she attempted to evade.
Claudia was unaccustomed to the table manners of Africa. She watched with an awful fascination as the stiff maize porridge was scooped from the communal pot in the center of the table by many hands, molded into balls between the fingers and then dipped into buffalo-meat gravy. Greasy gravy ran down the diners' chins, and no attempt was made to moderate the conversation during mastication, so that small particles of food were sprayed across the table when one of them laughed or exclaimed loudly.
Despite the fact that she was still half starved, Claudia had no appetite for the meal, and it took an effort to concentrate on General China's dissertation.
'We have divided the entire country into three war zones,' he explained. 'General Takawira Dos Alves is the commander of the north. He commands the provinces of Niassa and Cabo Delgado.
In the south the commander is General Tippoo Tip, and of course I command the army of the central provinces of Monica and Sofala. Between us we control almost fifty percent of the total ground area of Mozambique, and another forty percent of the country is a destruction zone over which we are forced to maintain a scorched-earth policy to prevent Frelinio growing either food for their troops or cash crops to finance their war effort against us.'
'So the reports of atrocities we have received in the United States are true then.' He had engaged Claudia's interest at last.
Her tone was sharp as she accused, 'Your troops are attacking and wiping out the civilian population in those destruction zones.'
'No, Miss Monterro.' China's smile was icy. 'The fact that we have moved the civilian population out of many of those destruction areas is unavoidably true, but all the atrocities, all the massacres and tortures, have been committed by Frelimo themselves.'
'They are the government of Mozambique. Why would they massacre their own people?' Claudia protested.
'I agree with you, Miss Monteffo, sometimes it is difficult to follow the devious workings of the Marxist mind. The reality is that Frelimo is unable to govern. They are unable to provide even basic protection to the civilian population outside the cities, let alone give them services of health and education and transport and communications. To draw world attention away. from the total failure of their economic policies and their lack of popular support, they have provided the international media with a Roman holiday of slaughter and torture which they blame upon Renanio and South Africa. It is easier to kill people than to feed and educate them, and the anti-Renamo propaganda is worth a million lives to a Marxist, that is.'
'You're suggesting that a Khmer Rouge-style massacre is being conducted here in Mozambique by the government forces?'
Claudia was aghast, pale and perspiring with the noise and rug of the subterranean mess and with the horror of General China's explanations.
'I am not suggesting, Miss Monterro. I am simply stating the literal truth.'
'But-but-surely the world must do something?'
'The world is uncaring, Miss Monterro. It has been left for us, Renamo, to try to bring down the heinous Marxist regime.'
'Frehmo is the elected government,' Claudia pointed out.
General China shook his head. 'No, Miss Monterro, very few governments in Africa are elected. There has never been an election in Mozambique or Angola or Tanzania or any of the other gem s of African socialism. In Africa the trick is to seize power and hang on to it at all costs. The typical African government plunges into the void left by the exodus of the colonial power and entrenches itself behind a barricade of AK-47 assault rifles. It then declares a one-party system of government which further precludes any form of opposition and it nominates a presidential dictator for-life.'
'Tell me, General China.' Claudia raised her voice above the roar of conversation further down the mess table. 'If one day your military efforts succeed and you and the other generals of Renaino vanquish Frelinio and become the new government of this country, will you then allow free elections and a truly democratic system to evolve?'
For a moment General China stared at her in astonishment and then he laughed delightedly. 'My very dear Miss Monterro, your childlike belief in the myth of the essential goodness of mankind is really rather touching. I certainly have not fought so hard and so long to gain power simply to hand it over to a bunch of illiterate peasants. No, Miss Monteffo, once we have the power it will remain safely in the right hands.' He extended his own elegantly shaped hands, pink palms uppermost, toward her. 'These,' he said.
'So you're every bit as bad as you say the others are.' There were hot red spots of anger on Claudia's cheeks. This was the man who had put chains on her wrists and incarcerated her in that vile pit. She hated him wit INI her strength.
'I think you are attually beginning to understand at last, even through the haze 'of your liberal emotions. In Africa there are no good guys
