Samuel Florman - The Aftermath

The younger Hardy’s Focus Group, of course, had been thinking and debating along the same lines. They were more than ready, at any time, to talk about social goals. Nevertheless, Wil felt sorry for his father and the other members of the leadership team.

Paradoxically, this most difficult of problems proved not very difficult to resolve. The matter was handled in the inevitable—perhaps the only—way: by appointing new committees. Most important, a Constitutional Committee was established, with Meijers and Mavimbela agreeing to serve alongside a number of Outlanders, and with Hardy and Nordstrom as ex officio members.

No sooner had the United Nations Gang departed than another large delegation made its appearance. They had been waiting their turn quietly and in good order, but they strode into the meeting with a firm step that bespoke resolution.

These were “the Crusaders”—Tom Swift’s irreverent but affectionate nickname for them, since his Mary was one of the leaders. The Crusaders were marching on behalf of religion. This at first seemed innocuous to those in attendance. Nobody could take exception to prayers offered and beliefs expressed, particularly in time of crisis. However, these true believers were not to be satisfied with soft words and new committees. They wanted action and commitment. They wanted physical places of worship, and to that end asked for an allocation of workers and materials from Shaka Enterprises. This request drove Alf Richards to the brink of apoplexy.

“Look here, friends,” he said, with a tinge of acid in his booming voice, “I think that none of us wants to create any divisions among the people, or establish any hierarchy of bishops or imams or priests. This is dangerous and counter to every effort we have made to be fair and treat everyone equally. So, if we approve one church, one mosque, one synagogue, one prayer mat, how many other requests, large and small, can we then deny? We must also consider priorities. It is urgent that we build living quarters and shelter for our people before we even think about churches or theaters or stadiums.”

At this point, Millie Fox raised her hand and was recognized. She spoke softly but with a solemnity that captured the attention of all present. “I grew up a Southern Baptist,” she said, “and still hold that faith in my heart. I believe that religious practice need not be in conflict with the work undertaken for the physical survival and common good of all our people. In many parts of the developing world, where I have been personally with the Peace Corps, I have seen houses of worship serve also as clinics, schools, and meeting halls. There is no reason not to build multipurpose public structures that will serve the entire community and different religious groups as well.”

This idea generated applause from the audience. Alf Richards, struggling to shed his curmudgeon’s attitude, pledged support for the concept. No one could know for certain how Millie Fox’s proposal might work in practice—a Catholic church cum Buddhist shrine cum Muslim mosque cum synagogue cum classroom? But all agreed it was worth a try. And as the fourth day of the Coordinating Committee’s open meetings ended with a multifaith lovefest, there was a widely shared feeling of progress and goodwill.

Wil Hardy awoke on the fifth and final day of the open sessions and found Sarah already up and gone. She had told him that she would be making a presentation to the meeting; she wanted to do something on behalf of the arts, but said she had not yet decided how best to go about it. Wil looked forward with apprehension to the speech that he expected her to give—and the condescending response he expected she would receive.

But when the time came for the meeting to begin, before there was even a formal call to order, band music began to blare from behind the nearby dunes. It was “Colonel Bogie’s March”—the theme music from The Bridge Over the River Kwai —rhythmic and lilting, trumpets and fifes carrying the tune, drums and cymbals marking the lively beat. The sound was totally incongruous on this barren beach, yet in its spirited defiance, somehow appropriate.

Suddenly, there they were, striding over the crest of the hill, twenty or so musicians from the ship’s orchestra, looking for all the world like a well-drilled marching band and sounding pretty good to ears that had been starved for music, for any artistic expression. The surprise was complete and the effect was stunning.

The band, however, was just the beginning. Sarah Darby had brought together every artist she could find, and they marched in a procession designed to evoke the image of Greek muses on an ancient vase. There were probably very few witnesses to this pageant who knew the first thing about the muses of antiquity. But this did not faze Sarah, who presented them as if they had come to renew the spirits and save the souls of those who found themselves here by a cruel act of fate.

Several writers, carrying tablets, represented Calliope, muse of epic poetry; several others, carrying scrolls, took the part of Clio, muse of history; and Alf Richards’s daughter Jeanette, bearing a lyre made from bamboo and grass, was the muse of lyric poetry, Erato. Two of the comedians who had entertained aboard ship came next wearing papier-mache masks, one comic and one tragic, indicating the presence of Thalia and Melpomene, muses of comedy and tragedy, respectively. Euterpe, muse of music, was embodied not only in the band but also in talented virtuosos from Inland: a classical string quartet (who had survived, along with their instruments, miraculously unharmed) and an audaciously non-classical rock group. Somewhere in the parade, Polymnia, muse of sacred poetry, and Urania, muse of astronomy (which was considered by the Greeks to be an art), were lost in the shuffle.

The center of attention was Terpsichore, muse of dance, portrayed by the Focus Group’s own Roxanne Ford. Roxy, who wore her cowgirl outfit, led the small corps of professional dancers from the Queen of Africa through some exciting steps, more or less based on line-dance movements and more or less in rhythm with the marching band.

But the highlight of the parade was still to come. Hidden out of sight until all the other marchers had completed their routines, there abruptly appeared a troupe of Zulu dancers in colorful traditional regalia, chanting in wild yet musical cadence, beating on drums and leaping, leaping, leaping—vertical bounds that took the breath away.

This remarkable procession surprised and pleased just about everyone gathered on the beach that morning, committee members, participants in the meeting, passersby, and children. Even Alf Richards, who had grown depressed verging on paranoic during the past few days of debate and criticism, was totally disarmed by the sight of his daughter carrying her make-believe lyre. Sarah Darby, it appeared, was politically savvy as well as artistically creative. To Wil Hardy, she was even more lovable for all that.

As for achieving her goal, it was not immediately clear how much had been accomplished by this display of talent. The importance of the arts was brought home to all who were present at the parade—and all who later heard about it—which meant just about everybody within the Ulundi Circle. Yet, after the excitement died down, the leaders of the Coordinating Committee made it clear to Sarah that physical survival still had an unchallenged priority in their thinking. For the first year at least, there would be no formal allocation of people or resources to the arts.

However, since all work assignments were to be “voluntary,” subject only to social pressures rather than official sanction, the planners promised to look sympathetically at a moderate number of “extracurricular” artistic activities, assuming they did not unduly hinder the main work effort. The band and other musical groups, including the Zulu dancers, hoped to travel about the Ulundi Circle on “concert tours” to benefit morale. And Sarah did not plan to stop with music and dance. She hoped to organize drama clubs to put on evening performances, and had already recruited groups of readers to recite poetry and read novels. She proposed to the Coordinating Committee the formation of yet another committee—to safeguard the books that had been salvaged from the Queen of Africa and to supervise a lending library.