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He turned to the others and spread his hands in a Gallic gesture. "I introduce myself, Pierre Dupaine, operative of the African Affairs sector of the French Community."
"Ha!" Donaldson snorted. "Getting the French out of Africa was like pulling teeth. It took donkey's years. And now look. This chap wants to bring them back again."
Crawford was knuckling the table. "Gentlemen, Gentlemen," he yelled. He finally had them quieted.
Wryly he said, "May I ask if we have a representative from the government of the United States?"
A lithe, inordinately well dressed young man rose from his seat in the rear of the hall. "Frederic Ostrander, C.I.A.," he said. "I might as well tell you now, Crawford, and you other American citizens here, this meeting will not meet with the approval of the State Department."
Crawford's eyes went up. "How do you know?"
The C.I.A. man said evenly, "We've already had reports that this conference was going to be held. I might as well inform you that a protest is being made to the Sahara Division of the African Development Project."
Crawford said, "I suppose that is your privilege, sir. Now, in accord with the reason for this meeting, can you tell us why your organization is present in Africa and what it hopes to achieve?"
Ostrander looked at him testily. "Why not? There has been considerable infiltration of all of these African development organizations by subversive elements...."
"Oh, Brother," Cliff Jackson said.
"... And it is not the policy of the State Department to stand idly by while the Soviet Complex attempts to draw Africa from the ranks of the free world."
Elmer Allen said disgustedly, "Just what part of Africa would you really consider part of the Free World?"
The C.I.A. man stared at him coldly. "You know what I mean," he rapped.
"And I might add, we are familiar with your record, Mr. Allen."
Homer Crawford said, "You've made a charge which is undoubtedly as unpalatable to many of those present as it is to me. Can you substantiate it? In my experience in the Sahara there is little, if any, following of the Soviet Complex."
An agreeing murmur went through the room.
Ostrander bit out, "Then who is subsidizing this El Ha.s.san?"
Rex Donaldson, the British Commonwealth man, came to his feet. "That was a matter I was going to bring up before this meeting."
Homer Crawford, fully accompanied by Abe Baker and the rest of their team, even Elmer Allen, burst into uncontrolled laughter.
V
When Homer Crawford, Abe Baker, Kenny Ballalou, Elmer Allen and Bey-ag-Akhamouk had laughed themselves out, Frederic Ostrander, the C.I.A. operative stared at them in anger. "What's so funny?" he snapped.
From his seat in the middle of the hall, Pierre Dupaine, operative for the French Community, said worriedly, "_Messieurs_, this El Ha.s.san is not amusing. I, too, have heard of him. His followers are evidently sweeping through the Sahara. Everywhere I hear of him."
There was confirming murmur throughout the rest of the gathering.
Still chuckling, Homer Crawford said, a hand held up for quiet, "Please, everyone. Pardon the amus.e.m.e.nt of my teammates and myself. You see, there is no such person as El Ha.s.san."
"To the contrary!" Ostrander snapped.
"No, please," Crawford said, grinning ruefully. "You see, my team _invented_ him, some time ago."
Ostrander could only stare, and for once his position was backed by everyone in the hall, Crawford's team excepted.
Crawford said doggedly, "It came about like this. These people need a hero. It's in their nomad tradition. They need a leader to follow. Given a leader, as history has often demonstrated, and the nomad will perform miracles. We wished to spread the program of the African Development Project. Such items as the need to unite, to break down the old boundaries of clan and tribe and even nation, the freeing of the slave and serf, the upgrading of women's position, the dropping of the veil and haik, the need to educate the youth, the desirability of taking jobs on the projects and to take up land on the new oases. But since we usually go about disguised as Enaden itinerant smiths, a poorly thought of caste, our ideas weren't worth much. So we invented El Ha.s.san and everything we said we ascribed to him, this mysterious hero who was going to lead all North Africa to Utopia."
Jake Armstrong stood up and said, sheepishly, "I suppose that my team unknowingly added to this. We heard about this mysterious El Ha.s.san and he seemed largely to be going in the same direction, and for the same reason--to give the rumors we were spreading weight--we ascribed the things we said to him."
Somebody farther back in the hall laughed and said, "So did I!"
Homer Crawford extended his hands in the direction of Ostrander, palms upward. "I'm sorry, sir. But there seems to be your mysterious subversive."
Angered, Ostrander snapped, "Then you admit that it was you, yourself, who have been spreading these subversive ideas?"
"Now, wait a minute," Crawford snapped in return. "I admit only to those slogans and ideas promulgated by the African Development Project. If any so-called subversive ideas have been ascribed to El Ha.s.san, it has not been through my team. Frankly, I rather doubt that they have. These people aren't at any ethnic period where the program of the Soviet Complex would appeal. They're largely in a ritual-taboo tribal society and no one alleging any alliance whatsoever to Marx would contend that you can go from that primitive a culture to what the Soviets call communism."
"I'll take this up with my department chief," Ostrander said angrily.
"You haven't heard the last of it, Crawford." He sat down abruptly.
Crawford looked out over the room. "Anybody else we haven't heard from?"
A middle-aged, heavy-set, Western dressed man came to his feet and cleared his throat. "Dr. Warren Harding Smythe, American Medical Relief.
I a.s.sume that most of you have heard of us. An organization supported partially by government grant, partially by contributions by private citizens and inst.i.tutions, as is that of Miss Isobel Cunningham's Africa for Africans a.s.sociation." He added grimly, "But there the resemblance ends."
He looked at Homer Crawford. "I am to be added to the number not in favor of this conference. In fact, I am opposed to the presence of most of you here in Africa."
Crawford nodded. "You certainly have a right to your opinion, doctor.
Will you elucidate?"
Dr. Smythe had worked his way to the front of the room, now he looked out over the a.s.semblage defiantly. "I am not at all sure that the task most of you work at is a desirable one. As you know, my own organization is at work bringing medical care to Africa. We build hospitals, clinics, above all medical schools. Not a single one of our hospitals but is a school at the same time."
Abe Baker growled, "Everybody knows and values your work, Doc, but what's this bit about being opposed to ours?"
Smythe looked at him distastefully. "You people are seeking to destroy the culture of these people, and, overnight thrust them into the pressures of Twentieth Century existence. As a medical doctor, I do not think them capable of a.s.similating such rapid change and I fear for their mental health."
There was a prolonged silence.
Crawford said finally, "What is the alternative to the problems I presented in my summation of the situation that confronts the world due to the backward conditions of such areas as Africa?"
"I don't know, it isn't my field."
There was another silence.
Elmer Allen said finally, uncomfortably, "It _is_ our field, Dr.
Smythe."
Smythe turned to him, his face still holding its distaste. "I understand that the greater part of you are sociologists, political scientists and such. Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I do not think of the social sciences as exact ones."