character. Because of the skewed demand for male doubles, our program
has a population that’s mostly male. There has to be a lot of
competition for the few females.’
‘That’s a good point,’ Kevin agreed. He wondered why Bertram hadn’t
thought of it.
‘Sounds like my type of place,’ Candace joked. ‘Maybe I should book Isla
Francesca instead of Club Med on my next vacation.’
Melanie laughed. ‘Let’s go together,’ she said.
They passed a number of Equatoguineans on their way home from work in
Cogo. Most of the women carried jugs and parcels on top of their heads.
The men were generally empty-handed.
‘It’s a strange culture,’ Melanie commented. ‘The women do the lion’s
share of the work: growing the food, carrying the water, raising the
kids, cooking the meals, taking care of the house.’
‘What do the men do?’ Candace asked.
‘Sit around and discuss metaphysics,’ Melanie said.
‘I just had an idea,’ Kevin said. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it
before. Maybe we should talk to the pygmy who takes out the food to the
island first and hear what he has to say.’
‘Sounds like a good idea to me,’ Melanie said. ‘Do you know his name?’
‘Alphonse Kimba,’ Kevin said.
When they reached the native village, they pulled to a stop in front of
the busy general store and got out. Kevin went inside to inquire after
the pygmy.
‘This place is almost too charming,’ Candace said as she looked around
the neighborhood. ‘It looks African but like something you’d see in
Disneyland.’
GenSys had built the village with the cooperation of the Equatoguinean
Minister of the Interior. The homes were circular, whitewashed mud brick
with thatched roofs. Corrals for domestic animals were made of reed mats
lashed to wooden stakes. The structures appeared traditional, but every
one of them was new and spotless. They also had electricity and running
water. Buried underground were powerlines and modern sewers.
Kevin returned quickly. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘He lives close by. Come
on, we’ll walk.’
The village was alive with men, women, and children. Traditional cooking
fires were in the process of being lit. Everyone acted happy and
friendly from having been recently freed from the captivity of the
interminable rainy season.
Alphonse Kimba was less than five feet tall with skin as black as onyx.
A constant smile dominated his wide, flat face as he welcomed his
unexpected visitors. He tried to introduce his wife and child, but they
were shy and shrunk back into the shadows.
Alphonse invited his guests to sit on a reed mat. He then got four
glasses and poured a dollop of clear fluid into each from an old green
bottle that had at one time contained motor oil.
His visitors warily swirled the fluid. They didn’t want to seem
ungrateful, but they were reluctant to drink.
‘Alcohol?’ Kevin asked.
‘Oh, yes!’ Alphonse said. His smile broadened. ‘It is lotoko from corn.
Very good! I bring it from my home in Lomako.’ He sipped with intense
enjoyment. In contrast to the Equatoguineans, Alphonse’s English was
accented with French, not Spanish. He was a member of the Mongandu
people from Zaire. He’d been brought to the Zone with the first shipment
of bonobos.
Since the drink contained alcohol, which would presumably kill potential
microorganisms, the guests cautiously tasted the brew. All of them made
faces in spite of good intentions not to do so. The drink was powerfully
pungent.
Kevin explained that they had come to ask about the bonobos on the
island. He didn’t mention his concern that their number included a
strain of protohumans. He asked only if Alphonse thought they were
acting like bonobos back in his home province in Zaire.
‘They are all very young,’ Alphonse said. ‘So they are very unruly and
wild.’
‘Do you go on the island often?’ Kevin asked.
‘No, I am forbidden,’ Alphonse said. ‘Only when we retrieve or release,
and only then with Dr. Edwards.’
‘How do you get the extra food to the island?’ Melanie asked.
‘There is a small float,’ Alphonse said. ‘I pull it across the water
with a rope, then pull it back.’
‘Are the bonobos aggressive with the food or do they share?’ Melanie