Bandiagara, Part 7a
The state of trade on Bandiagara. Simon opens the doors of his clinic.
"Your visit to us is illegal, of course," Mamadou said, as he poured his guests cups of ditah juice. "Technically, I should report your arrival with a shipload of contraband, and hold you in custody until the authorities from New Bamako come to take you away."
"Are you gonna?" Mal asked boldly, knowing the answer.
"Certainly not, Captain. Your cargo is like manna from heaven. The last thing I want is for the authorities in New Bamako to come and confiscate it all."
"Don't 狐狸 Húli Network bring you the things you need?" Zoe inquired, sipping the dangerous-looking green liquid. It was surprisingly refreshing.
"No, madam, they do not. They bring us the things they need to sell. They have an exclusive deal, arranged with the Bandiagara World Council in New Bamako. It generally works to the disadvantage of Bandiagarans, but 狐狸 Húli Network makes certain it works to the personal advantage of the Councilors.
"Our needs are few and basic," Mamadou continued. "We need clean water. Medical supplies. Basic infrastructure, like roads we can still travel on when it rains. Basic technology, robust machinery that we can maintain ourselves."
"That sounds simple enough," Mal remarked, drinking the bright green ditah juice. He was glad they sat in the shade, because even by mid-morning, the heat was becoming intense.
"Well, it is not," Mamadou remarked sharply. "What we get is cast-off cheap junk that nobody wants on the 'civilized' planets. They figure the Bandiagarans will buy it and be grateful. They sell for reasonable prices, and feel good about themselves for seeing to the needs of the poor. Their Bandiagara business is the basis for a PR campaign back in the Core—my wife's cousin who moved to Londinium tells me that 狐狸 Húli Network is highly regarded by many Core people for their charitable intentions towards the backward masses who live on remote Rim worlds."
"What an offensive load of 废物 fèiwù! Core 傻瓜 shǎguā with their patronizing attitudes!" Zoe exclaimed, while Mal snorted. Shadow had been offered some of the same kinds of "charity" back in the day, and the well-intentioned Core folks who offered it had not understood why the Shadow World Council had rejected their offer.
"The other thing we get," Mamadou continued, "—and this is from some of the more thoughtful Core people, the ones who understand that we need clean water and a reliable electrical grid—is high-tech, high maintenance solutions. A few years ago, a humanitarian group in Osiris raised funds and bought permits to import an electrical generator and grid system large enough to power the needs of the entire village of Fajara."
"That actually sounds like a good plan," Mal replied. He had seen that the village was noticeably not electrified. No cortex sportswaves, no musicwaves blaring, no artificial light sources in the mud brick houses. "It didn't work out, I take it."
"They brought in a large generator, state-of-the-art, very fine indeed. A shipload of volunteers from Osiris lent their expertise to install it, and for three weeks it worked beautifully. Then we had a dust storm roll in from the Zahir Desert, and the machine seized up. We have tried to fix it, but we haven't been able to get it to run again." Mal made a mental note to ask Kaylee to take a look at the thing. "It sits in the middle of our village, simply taking up space. A machine such as that might work well enough in the Core, where spare parts are easy to come by and an army of specially trained technicians can easily be hired. But here—yes, we have mechanics here, good ones—but our Baaba and our Bintou have to be jack-and-jill-of-all trades. They must be able to fix everything from refrigeration units to wind turbines to internal combustion engines. They cannot afford to specialize."
Mal and Zoe discussed terms of trade with Mamadou, his wife Nana, and several other of the Fajara village elders. The Fajarans were cash-poor, but they had local products to trade. Most abundant was fresh produce—tropical fruits and vegetables—and Mal immediately began thinking of how best to adapt Serenity to carry such a cargo, and where he could take it to market before it spoiled. The villagers also made beautiful cotton fabrics, both prints and tie-dyed, and excellent basketry. Of course timonium was an option, but the Firefly just wasn't well suited to carrying timonium ore, neither in its unprocessed nor partially processed form. It just didn't have the capacity to carry bulk commodities. Mal wondered if any of the timonium ore was refined on Bandiagara, because carrying a more concentrated form of the mineral might be more feasible.
On their way back to Serenity, Mamadou and Nana showed Mal and Zoe the generator. It was huge and it did indeed occupy an inconveniently large amount of prime space in the village. No one would have begrudged the machine its space if it had been working, but since it didn't, and hadn't for years, it was an eyesore. As they passed to the outer rings of the village, Mamadou showed them the village council building, mosque, and schoolhouse, presently unoccupied as the heat of the day came into full force. They trudged through the field where they'd landed Serenity, where several women hastened to finish their agricultural work before the heat of the day forced them to retire for the afternoon.
Zoe scanned the field with narrowed eyes. "What're those women carrying on their heads?" she asked.
"They each draw a bucket of water from the well," Nana answered. "The head is an excellent place to carry it."
Zoe marveled at the women's balance—and their neck strength. She had never believed that old saw about the weakness of women. But she also noted the fact that the water had to be carried a considerable distance by hand, and that the well (which they had passed by on their way) was also hand-drawn, bucket by bucketful. These women's strength was not being efficiently used.
Anywhere that was not planted, irrigated and tended, the land was dry and parched, and very little vegetation clung to the soil, just a few dusty weeds. There were places where the bare rock was exposed, and places where the heavy rains that came seasonally had eroded deep gullies. They passed through an orchard of sorts and Mal noted with interest the lines of rocks running crosswise to the gentle slope of the land. When he asked, Nana explained. "That is for soil conservation. Our soil is very vulnerable. The land here is very dry. When the life-giving rain comes, it also washes away the soil. These lines of rocks trap the soil, so that it does not all run down the slope. During the dry season, they also collect wind-blown soil. Our soil is precious, and we try to encourage any practices that preserve and enrich it." Mal was thoughtful. The germ of an idea that had planted itself in the back of his mind on Beylix, and sprouted and grown on the journey, now came to full fruition. The time was ripe.
. . .
While Mal and Zoe were talking terms with Mamadou and the other village elders, Simon saw his first patient. A child, about two years old, was carried by his mother to the foot of Serenity's ramp. The child's condition, though not life-threatening, was debilitating, and Simon had the means to remedy it. A simple surgical procedure, followed by a brief course of antibiotics, and the prospect of lifelong debility would be lifted from the child's shoulders. He invited the boy and his mother into Serenity's infirmary.
Fatou Kiné carried little Alpha up the ramp and into the ship, following the man who said he was the ship's doctor. Alpha had been a healthy baby and a happy toddler, but as he grew, instead of walking more steadily, he began to stumble. A few months later, he could not walk at all. Finally, the lower half of his body was nearly paralyzed. Mrs Kiné was mystified as to how the paralysis had come about. There was no illness, no snakebite, no injury to cause the problem. Fajara had no doctor resident. The nearest doctor was halfway to New Bamako, and no one in Fatou's near or extended family could spare the time or afford the cost of the journey there. As she stepped into the cargo hold, she nearly dropped dear Alpha. It was like the Cave of Wonders in the tale. Water pumps, generators, small engines, and the sewing machine of her dreams—mountains of treasures, piled high. The last trade ship to land in Fajara had carried nothing but plastic flip flops and odd-size T-shirts with the irrelevant label 'Inside Out' printed on them—right-side out, of course.
The doctor asked her to set her son down on an exam table in a sparkling clean clinic. He asked her and the boy a number of questions, taking a history of the illness. "Your son has a tethered spinal cord," the doctor said. "It's a fairy common congenital anomaly—meaning he was born with the problem; it didn't come about as a result of illness or injury. I'll need to take a scan of his spine, and then surgically detether the spinal cord from the spinal canal. The procedure to correct the problem does not take long. He won't even have much of a scar, because I can use the laser scope."
Simon was particularly glad that he had experience doing endoscopic neurosurgery, and that among Serenity's relatively few high-tech medical gadgets was a portable MR imager and a good surgical endoscope. "He'll need some recovery time, then he'll learn to walk again, and re-build his muscles."
The kind doctor set about preparing his surgical tools and medicines, while a beautiful lady in rich clothing set Alpha on a clean white bed, asked him to roll onto his tummy, and set about washing Alpha's lower back. Fatou was permitted to watch the procedure, and in less time than she could have imagined, it was over. The doctor gave Alpha a shot. "It's an anti-adhesive, to prevent the scar tissue from forming and tacking the spinal cord back onto the lower vertebrae," Simon explained, glad that Serenity carried adequate supplies of this essential post-surgical medication. It was a point of pride with Simon, that his surgeries left less intrusive scarification, as a result of his careful application of anti-adhesives and collagen antistimulants.
He handed her a small container with pills. "He must take two of these a day, until they are used up. It should prevent infection. Before you know it, he'll be running around again like other children."
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glossary
狐狸 Húli [fox]
废物 fèiwù [garbage]
傻瓜 shǎguā [fools]
While Mal and Zoe set up the terms of illegal trade, Simon's impromptu clinic opens its doors, and the review button just down there awaits your mouse click.