Samuel Florman - The Aftermath

“It’s that damned chicken and the egg,” Alf said. “We need tools and sawmills to get building materials, and we need building materials to construct shops and mills. Well, we’ll just have to do everything at once—start with our bare hands and such tools as we can find. Then make new tools as fast as we can, and get those mills built and in operation. At least we have good running water as a source of power. Some day we’ll operate our mills with steam engines, internal combustion engines, or electric motors. For starters, waterwheels will have to do. But my question still is: how in the hell are we going to make waterwheels without nails?”

“I know carpenters who can do a lot with pegs and doweling,” Peter said.

“Oh Christ!” Alf Richards was shouting with frustration now. “That’s for people with time on their hands. Find me some nails, for God’s sake. For want of a nail, the kingdom was lost!” he cried, mangling quotes from both Shakespeare and Ben Franklin.

He was somewhat mollified when the group agreed to add nails to the list of items to be sought by the Scavengers, and to make nails a priority when the first blacksmith forges were put into operation. In the meantime, calming down, he told Peter Mavimbela that he would welcome those carpenters who knew how to work with pegs and dowels.

Whatever the initial difficulties might be, the use of wood was crucial to any development plan, and the subcommittee decided to found an embryonic lumber industry with a workforce of three hundred. The first objective of this company would be, by hook or by crook, to provide structural materials for the builders. At the same time, using branches and brush not suitable for building, they were to start making charcoal for blacksmith forges, and to gather fuel for various other purposes. As a third mission, they would produce such derivatives of wood as turpentine, potash, and tannin for tanning leather. In their second year, the lumber experts would be expected to provide pulp for the manufacture of paper, as well as raw material for plastics and other chemicals.

This seemed to conclude the discussion of wood and its byproducts; and the hour having grown late, several subcommittee members stood up and stretched, anticipating adjournment. However, Gordon Chan urged the group to wait just a few more minutes in order to consider a matter that seemed to be on nobody’s agenda, but that was related to timber resource: the topic of bamboo. For this purpose he introduced Tran Hung Tho, an eminent Vietnamese agricultural engineer, who had been recommended to Wilson Hardy by a number of Asian academics.

“Colleagues,” began Dr. Tho, somewhat stiff and reserved, “the tropical climate along the coast in this part of Africa appears to be most promising for the cultivation of the tall, treelike tropical grass that we know as bamboo. Indeed, several varieties of the plant are local here and appear to have survived the tsunami. I have also brought with me seeds and seedlings, which I had planned to leave with African specialists for experimental work.

“Bamboo can be propagated by dividing root clumps or by planting certain segments of the shoots, as well as by sowing seeds and planting seedlings. So there are excellent prospects for an early and abundant supply of this versatile and serviceable material.”

Alf Richards’s eyes grew wide as he listened with fascination to the statistics.

“Some species grow quickly, as much as one foot per day, and achieve heights of up to forty meters—that is, one hundred and thirty feet. The stems, lashed together with grasses—grasses, not nails—provide a good building material. This can be especially useful for Engineering Village, far removed as it is from the forested hills. The largest stems can be cut into planks for buildings and rafts, or used to make buckets and pipes, furniture, fishing poles, and much more. Additionally, the seeds of some varieties are eaten as grain and the cooked young shoots eaten as vegetables. The raw leaves are a useful fodder for livestock. The pulped fibers of several species are used to make fine-quality paper.”

After hardly any further discussion, the subcommittee authorized a workforce of fifty to assist Tran Hung Tho in his plan to grow and harvest this amazing material.

Finally, fatigued by the long day and evening sessions, but cheered by the prospect of developing a supply of bamboo—which Alf Richards labeled “our unanticipated resource”—the Joint Planning Subcommittee brought its first meeting to an end.

Just a week earlier, across the Mozambique Channel, two hundred fifty miles from the survivors of Ulundi and Engineering Village, on the shore of Madagascar, another meeting was held. Presiding was a youngish woman who spoke the Malagasy and French languages with a distinctly American accent. She removed a colorful bandanna from her head and shook her reddish-brown locks free. The all-male gathering awaited her words attentively.

She stood before them—her “government council,” a score of fierce-looking men of mixed race, not a single smile on any one of the hard, dark faces that were illuminated by smoky torchlight—and spoke with the authority of a born leader. She was their captain not by formal election, but by a unanimous, unspoken agreement. Her position was like that of an ancient Roman emperor, the imperator, or commander in chief, who held power by virtue of his dominant personality and ability to reward the armies.

“My men, my people,” she began in a low tone, “as your queen I am not afraid to lead you into danger, into the unknown sea of this dark new world. We do not know who or what is out there; but we are not afraid of them. We will make them afraid of us! ”

The men grunted approvingly, some applauded. “Fear is our most powerful weapon, and we must move with stealth and swiftness!”

Her unkempt hair seemed afire in the flickering orange light; and she spoke just loudly enough, not shouting, to give her voice resonance and authority. “You, my friends, have only one thing in the world to fear—me. For I promise you with every fiber of my being that he who crosses me or disobeys a single command, however small it may seem, will pay with his life.”

No one moved or spoke. All eyes remained fixed on the woman, whose dark eyes glowed like coals. They had no doubt that she would carry through with her threat and that every man would support her in any such action. They noted, too, the automatic pistol, fully loaded, that rested snugly in her belt, which she tapped occasionally while she spoke as if to remind herself—and her audience—of its existence.

Where had she come from? Somewhere in the United States, they assumed. When had she come to Madagascar? No one among her “pirate” crew knew for certain; most of them did not know her given name and few thought to ask. It was clear to those who spent any time thinking about it that she was educated and of superior intelligence. She spoke well, using unusual words that they sometimes did not understand; but her strategical plans seemed to make good sense. And she gave little evidence that she cared one whit what these rough men—or anyone else—thought of her. More important than where she came from, to these hungry-eyed buccaneers, was where she was going to take them.

“We don’t know if anyone else has lived through this catastrophe,” she said. “But if people on this island have survived, it is very likely that others have too. We don’t know if they are organized or armed, strong or weak. All we do know is that we are stronger and we are destined to create a new kingdom of Madagascar and Southern Africa. The holocaust came to us from the sky, destroying the world that was, eliminating those who held power, and inviting us to take our rightful place at the head of the table. It is our time to rule!”