The Mine

By Kenneth C Ryeland

The Mine is a political thriller set in Nibana, an imaginary West African state, several years after gaining independence from the British in 1962. With the Eastern Region about to secede and Nibana heading for civil war, the head of state invites an archaeology professor and his team to investigate some ruins in the Northern Region. The professor’s astonishing finds initiate a chain of extraordinary events that lead to abduction. A police investigation ensues, but becomes complicated when an Eastern Bloc country is commissioned to print currency for the secessionists, and an MI6 agent, working with the police, must hinder the secession by sabotaging the currency. An abandoned mine becomes the focal point when the agent, police and archaeologists are incarcerated there and discover its secret. Murder, breathtaking corruption, river pirates and rogue army officers; Ken Ryeland manipulates these ingredients in his usual consummate way to provide an exciting political thriller.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenneth C Ryeland
• Release date: Mar 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476392059

Kenneth C Ryeland

After 20 years living and working in Africa, the Far East and the Middle East, the author returned to the UK and occupied various senior engineering and research posts within the motor and insurance industries before retiring in 2004. He is a widower, has three grown children and likes gardening, writing, cross-country walking, classic British motorcycles and fine red wines.

Book preview

The Mine

A political thriller set in 1960s post-colonial West Africa

by

Kenneth C Ryeland

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Kenneth C Ryeland

Discover other titles by Kenneth C Ryeland at

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Smashwords Edition Licence Notes

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In loving memory of my parents: Frances Roberts 1920-2011 and Eric Roberts 1913-1980

Contents

By the Same Author

Map of the Republic of Nibana

Author’s Note

Chapter I: Trouble Ahead

Chapter II: The Republic of Nibana

Chapter III: Talk of Treason

Chapter IV: Our Man in Nibana

Chapter V: Money Matters

Chapter VI: Bloodline

Chapter VII: Revelations

Chapter VIII: Important Decisions

Chapter IX: Deliverance

Chapter X: Police Palaver

Chapter XI: Mal de Mer

Chapter XII: Follow My Leader

Chapter XIII: Confrontations

Chapter XIV: Desperate Measures

Chapter XV: A Clash of Wills

Chapter XVI: Preparations

Chapter XVII: Suspicions

Chapter XVIII: All Aboard!

Chapter XIX: Escalation

Chapter XX: Football, Flight and Fire

Chapter XXI: Storm Clouds over Nibana

Chapter XXII: A Memorable Meeting

Chapter XXIII: Into the Darkness

Chapter XXIV: Loose Ends

By The Same Author

The Up-Country Man

A personal account of the first one hundred days inside secessionist Biafra. (Memoir)

Tribal Gathering

Eight stories set in 1960s post-colonial West Africa. (Fiction)

The Last Bature

A policeman’s tale set in 1960s post-colonial West Africa. (Fiction)

Map of the Republic of Nibana

Author’s Note

There is no country called Nibana on the West African coast. In fact, there is no country quite like Nibana anywhere in the world; it is merely a figment of my imagination.

The Mine is a work of fiction, but the general background and many of the situations described reflect my own observations and experiences resulting from several years living and working in West Africa during the immediate post-colonial era of the 1960s.

The lifestyles, language, attitudes and opinions of the characters revealed in this work are prevalent of the era and all the characters – with the exception of those people of note referred to by their true names – are fictitious and not intended to represent any living people.

In the story there is a description of starting a Land-Rover without an ignition key. Readers should be clear that since the introduction of electronic ignition and engine immobilisers some twenty years ago, it is no longer possible to start vehicles in this way.

Kenneth C Ryeland

April 2012, Berkshire, England.

Chapter I

Trouble Ahead

The British High Commissioner to the Republic of Nibana, Sir Robert Berkley-Clifford, sat at his desk in the High Commission building on Laguna Island; a secluded, peaceful and sweet-smelling place, where most of the other high commissions and embassies were situated. It was generally agreed by all who lived and worked on the island – expatriates to a man – that its only drawback was the long road bridge over the lagoon that connected it to the filth, stench and squalor of Laguna, Nibana’s capital city. Sir Robert was reading a report recently received from his deputy in Ugune, the capital of the Eastern Region and seat of power of the Obi tribe.

Bloody Obis, they’re nothing but trouble and always have been, he exclaimed to himself before closing the front cover of the report.

Charles! Charles, where are you?! called the high commissioner. Two minutes later, first secretary commercial, Charles Alexander, burst into the room thinking there was a problem.

Yes sir, what’s happened?

What? cried the high commissioner. What’s happened?

The way in which you called me, sir, I thought something terrible had happened, replied Charles, still breathless from running along the corridor.

What? No, no, nothing’s happened. I just wanted to talk to you about this report. Don’t be so damn jittery all the time, Charles, said the high commissioner, dismissing all concern with a wave of his hand.

The deputy high commissioner in Ugune has sent this confidential report about that fellow in charge over there, Colonel Ojumwu. Our colonel is a bit of a troublemaker if you ask me, Charles. He’s got that shifty look that some of these fellows assume when they are promoted. I’m sure you know what I mean, Charles.

The first secretary commercial looked at his boss and wondered how on earth the man had ever been appointed as one of Her Majesty’s senior diplomats.

What does the report say, sir?

Well, our man reckons these Obi chaps are going to secede from the Nibana federation and he thinks it’s going to happen within the year. It’s absolutely disgraceful, what?

Sir, we have discussed this before on several occasions. As you know, the Obis have been treated rather badly by the other two tribes and by the federal government; consequently, you really can’t blame them can you, sir? Furthermore, it is almost common knowledge that the Obis will do anything to achieve some sort of autonomy for their region, said Charles patiently.

The report also says they are looking for a means of producing their own currency for when they breakaway from the federation. How presumptuous of them to think that anyone would want their damn worthless money. Furthermore, Charles; how the devil does the deputy high commissioner in Ugune get hold of this sort of information? He seems to be on top of everything those Obi military chaps do and say, retorted the high commissioner indignantly.

The first secretary commercial raised his eyes to the ceiling in utter frustration and then began to explain.

Sir, I have explained the situation many times. The deputy high commissioner in Ugune has a deputy first secretary commercial and, just like me, he is in fact an intelligence officer. I know he’s had listening devices planted in all the rooms in Government House, Ugune; just as we have at Government House here in Laguna and elsewhere in Nibana. That’s how he keeps up to speed with what’s going on there. He also has a plethora of informants and agents working for him, so he is extremely well informed. The British Deputy High Commission in Ugune, not to mention those in the other important townships in Nibana, is a mirror image of our setup here in the capital, insofar as our security service is concerned, sir.

Hearing you talk in that way makes me thankful that my parents thought it only right to bring me up properly, Charles, and have me educated in gentlemanly ways. My old headmaster at Winchester would never have allowed his boys to indulge in this sort of thing. It’s not polite to be eavesdropping on all and sundry, especially these Nibanan military types. You know how unstable they are here. Start a palaver at the drop of a hat, don’t you know? And where would we be then? It’s hard work keeping these chaps from murdering each other as it is, without giving them an excuse to have their people rioting all over the place. Furthermore, it would be highly embarrassing for me, and the British Government, if these Nibanans were to find out that someone working for me was a party to such a dastardly, underhanded business, said the high commissioner with a haughty note to his voice.

The first secretary commercial simply looked at his boss and thought, what an old hypocrite he is; the bloody man would swindle his own grandmother if he thought it would get him another citation or a gong from Her Majesty.

The high commissioner read a little more of the report and looked Charles square in the eyes.

Good Lord, it says here the Obis are probably going to ask the Nigerians to print the money for them. Well, all I can say is they should be very careful, those Nigerian chaps in Lagos will charge them a fortune, especially when they realise it’s to be a clandestine operation. The Obis will end up paying through the nose. Don’t you agree, Charles?

Possibly, sir, but more importantly, what is the official British stance on this secession thing, sir? I have asked you several times, sir, said Charles pointedly.

I know what my view is, Charles, began the high commissioner, but I doubt it would correlate to London’s take on the matter. In fact, I’ve heard nothing from those buffoons in Whitehall since my last communiqué two days ago.

I heard the telex-machine clattering away as I came past the communications room, sir. Perhaps London have come up with a policy, I’ll go and see, said Charles, turning to leave the room.

Yes, and see if they have sent anything about my home leave; as you know, I’m now overdue, called the high commissioner.

A few moments later the first secretary commercial returned to the office.

There is a communiqué and the serial number suggests it’s an answer to our policy query, sir. I’ve sent it to the decoding room. They will have it in plain language for us in about twenty minutes. There was also something about your leave, sir. It’s here in plain language, sorry, sir, mumbled Charles, handing over the telex to the outstretched hand of the high commissioner.

Damn and blast them all to hell! They’ve postponed my leave for at least another six months, the damn fools. ‘Senior staff shortages’, so they say. I shall send those idiots at the Foreign and Colonial Office a rocket for this; you mark my words, Charles. You mark my words! repeated the high commissioner as he sat behind his desk and began mumbling to himself.

After an awkward wait when nothing was said between Charles and the high commissioner, a cipher clerk brought in a sheaf of documents that had been decoded. He handed them to the high commissioner and waited for him to sign the acknowledgement form attached to a clipboard.

Thank you Mr Allen, please close the door as you leave, instructed the high commissioner, handing the clipboard back to the cipher clerk.

Good God! Are they mad? spluttered the high commissioner, as he read through the decoded document.

They have obviously lost all reason in London. They say they can only give me an outline of their policy today because they are all so busy with the official London visit of that Russian fellow, Alexei Kosygin. Is he more important than me, a senior British diplomat?

The first secretary commercial looked at the high commissioner and said, Well, sir, he is the Russian premier, sir, and giving him our full diplomatic attention is important at the moment, sir, what with the cold war and everything.

The high commissioner stared at his first secretary commercial and harrumphed loudly before continuing.

Regarding Nibana, they say we must do everything possible to prevent the secession and, if the Obis do get someone to print their money and other negotiable instruments, then we must, and I quote, ‘Do your utmost to deprive the secessionists of the wherewithal to trade with the rest of the world, thus hastening an end to what would be an illegal act of secession’. They also say we must do these things in secret because it wouldn’t go down well in polite society if the British were to be caught undertaking dirty tricks in Nibana, especially since we were the former colonial power here. Good God, they want to turn us into felons, Charles; bloody common thieves! Well, it’s not my way and so you shall have the responsibility for this one, Charles. Just keep me informed in the usual way and ensure I will always have plausible deniability if it all goes pear-shaped. Is that clear, Charles?

Charles took the proffered document from the high commissioner’s hand together with the report from Ugune before replying in a tone of inevitability.

Yes, sir, I understand. Verbal updates only and no paperwork with any reference to you in it and, if it goes pear-shaped, as you call it, sir, I will be held to account because I will have done whatever it is that sends it pear-shaped, without informing you.

Got it in one, Charles; you’re a bright young man, don’t you know? I’m sure you will go far in that cloak-and-dagger department of yours, said the high commissioner, smiling. Seconds later he pulled a file from his IN tray and, before opening it, dismissed the first secretary commercial with an imperious wave of his hand.

Charles returned to his own office and retrieved a set of keys from his pocket. Inserting one of the keys into the lock of a reinforced and fireproof filing cabinet standing in the corner, he turned the key and then opened one of the drawers. He selected a half-inch thick file, closed and locked the cabinet and sat down behind his modest desk. The file cover had a wide, red diagonal stripe across the top right hand corner with the word ‘secret’ overwritten in black. The title on the inside cover read, ‘Information Relating to the Possible Secession of the Eastern Region of Nibana’. Charles placed the documents that the high commissioner had given him into the file and then flicked through some of the other pages to remind himself of what had gone before.

The file contained various reports compiled by all the deputy first secretaries commercial at all the British Deputy High Commissions in Nibana. The townships of Kuna, Kabala, Ndabi, Port Hassan and of course Ugune, were all represented and this gave the first secretary commercial in Laguna a full picture of what anyone of any importance in Nibana was thinking and saying regarding the possibility of secession. In fact, the information was so comprehensive it was just possible that the first secretary commercial knew more about the possibility of the Eastern Region seceding than anyone else in Nibana; apart from the Eastern Region’s military governor of course.

Charles’ associates in the various Deputy High Commissions were SIS agents (Secret Intelligence Service, probably better known as MI6 or simply, the Secret Service) working for him, ‘Our Man in Nibana’, the most senior SIS agent in the country. They in turn had various operatives working for them, both Nibanan and expatriate. All in all, therefore, Nibana was ‘fully covered’ from an SIS point of view.

The first secretary commercial then unlocked his desk drawer and withdrew a cipher pad. After inserting a thin sheet of bakelite the same size as the pad between the first sheet and the rest of the pad so that he would not leave any impression of his message on the lower sheets, he began scribbling a note to the deputy first secretary commercial in Ugune. He wanted to know who was dealing with the production of the currency in the event of secession and what recommendations his deputy might have regarding this matter, bearing in mind London’s policy. Ripping off the top sheet and locking the pad back in his desk drawer, Charles walked out of his office, locked the door and headed for the cipher room to have the message coded and sent by the secure telex line.

Chapter II

The Republic of Nibana

Nibana, on the west coast of Africa, had never been a very successful or, for that matter, a very lucky colony for the British. From the moment the first British slavers established settlements and their all-important barracoons – old sailing ship hulks moored in the creeks and rivers where captured slaves were kept prior to being shipped to the Americas – on the coast near Laguna in the mid-1700s, the area had already earned itself a reputation for difficulties. The most noticeable and dramatic of these being the somewhat short life-expectancy for Europeans because of the ability of the anopheles mosquito to spread malaria and yellow fever like wildfire. Notwithstanding the endemic health problems and the oft-times unfriendly natives, the British persevered; they had been visiting the coast on and off since 1553, and were very familiar with its people, climate, geography and danger to healthy living.

As the village of Laguna expanded, mainly due to the constant comings and goings of slavers from all nations, so the British began to take a closer interest in the region. By 1808 the British Government had made slaving illegal for its subjects, forcing the British ex-slavers to look for something else from which to make a profitable living.

Initially they tried to make arrangements with the local chiefs to protect them against Arab and other European slave raiders – an early form of protection racket. However, this did not please all the chiefs, especially those who had previously made a good living from selling their own people. Thus, from time to time trouble erupted when the local chiefs, deprived of income with which to pay the recently imposed ten shillings a year Hut Tax, accused the British of taking away their easy living.

When the British realised there was money to be made by trading in palm oil, they set about establishing large ‘factories’ for this purpose. The project was successful and by the 1840s the British had a government administrator resident in Laguna. By 1860, the Foreign and Colonial Office in London, pleased at the revenue aspect of the palm oil trade and its potential, decided to annexe Laguna and its environs for the Crown. They immediately sent out a governor general from London and declared the whole coastal area from Laguna in the west, to the Enube River Delta in the east – approximately 500 miles long, but no more than 10 miles deep – to be the British Protectorate of Laguna and the Enube Coast.

Eager to push on with their occupation of West Africa – mainly to discourage the Germans and, to some extent, the French, in their colonial endeavours in the region – the British began to explore the interior of their new protectorate and move further north. They soon discovered that the best means of transport through the almost impenetrable ribbon of forests near the coast was the mighty Enube River, which, as it turned out, was navigable from the delta in the south-east to Lake Soko in the north-west; though of course the British were ignorant of this fact for several years. With the help of two Royal Navy gunboats and the newly-formed Royal West African Frontier Force (RWAFF), the British managed to gain control of some 360,000 square miles of territory, extending as far north as the ancient cities of Kuna, Gomba and Duguru. With British district officers stationed at the main population centres administering British colonial law and collecting taxes, Pax Britannica soon spread, bringing order, stability and, above all, peace to the new colony.

In 1914, the Foreign and Colonial Office decided to incorporate the primitive northern territories into the Laguna and Enube Coast Protectorate and rename the whole land mass, The Colony and Protectorate of Nibana.

An interesting story exists as to why the name ‘Nibana’ was chosen by the British. Apparently it all came about due to a misunderstanding on the part of the first governor general, who, whilst out hunting one day with his retinue of civil servants, asked a local man the name of the prominent escarpment that loomed over and dominated the Laguna Township. The local chap thought the governor was pointing at a tall palm and thus the country was named after a tree, the sap of which, when left to ferment, turned into a strong alcoholic beverage known locally as palm-wine or wee-wee.

The Nibanans living around the township of Laguna and the south-west of Nibana, all members of the Yuba tribe and mainly pagans, proved to be a troublesome lot; often prone to rioting at the drop of a hat. The northern Nibanans, members of the Usmar tribe and predominantly Muslims, were quite accommodating and deferential, and for this reason the British tended to favour them over the other two main tribes of Nibana. The worst indigenous people of all, from a British perspective, were the members of the Obi tribe, whose homeland was the delta and the south-eastern part of the country. Obi tribesmen were commonly referred to as ‘palavermen’ – meaning quarrelsome and pedantic in West African Pidgin English – despite their ready acceptance of Christianity, brought about by years of unrelenting missionary work by the hoards of Irish Jesuits who first descended on the eastern part of the country in the 1880s.

The Obis were also a clever, crafty tribe with a lot of business acumen and this trait was despised by the British because the Obis would often question decisions made by the governor general and that tended to irritate him somewhat.

During the Second World War, the British recruited many thousands of Nibanans – mainly Usmars, well known for their soldiering skills – into General Slim’s 14th Army, where they bravely distinguished themselves against the Japanese Imperial Army in Burma during 1944-45.

After the war, the British administrators in Nibana began to invest in the agricultural and mineral products of the country: cotton, groundnuts, cocoa, sugar cane, tin and iron-ore. The investment boost to these industries increased the wealth of the colony and provided jobs for its people, but, despite the progress, within a few years the country began to seethe with the usual frustrations and aspirations of a colonised people: anti-British sentiments and a taste for freedom.

Inevitably there soon came into existence a secret movement, led by the Obis of course, to free Nibana from colonial rule. The British resisted all calls for independence on the grounds that the country was not yet ready for it. As a consequence, rioting and civil unrest on an unprecedented scale began to engulf the colony, particularly in the south, where the Yubas and Obis predominated. Significantly, it was the Yubas and Obis living in the north, though in a minority, who caused trouble in that region too. The Usmars, on the other hand, were quite relaxed about their British masters. As far as they were concerned the British did all the hard work of administering the colony and were making a fair job of it, thus leaving the Usmars to tend their farms and livestock and give prayer to Allah five times a day.

The civil unrest was often encouraged and instigated by the Yuba and Obi politicians-in-waiting, who wanted power and influence – and the keys to the treasury, as it turned out – at any cost. Though the British reacted to the civil unrest with what they termed ‘measured force’, world opinion did not sympathise with the colonial masters and the British, aware that the days of Empire were fast drawing to a close, began to draw up a timetable to grant independence to all their African colonies.

As it turned out, Nibana was one of the last of the West African colonies to be granted independence (the last being The Gambia in 1965). At exactly one minute to midnight on the 31st of December 1961, the Union Flag was lowered for the last time at Government House in Laguna. At one second past midnight on the 1st of January 1962, with the raising of the new flag, Nibana became an independent state within the British Commonwealth of Nations.

Regrettably, within six months of the independence celebrations, the country was bankrupt. The one hundred million Nibanan pounds (par with the pound sterling at that time) the British had left in the treasury had gone, stolen by the Nibanan politicians to build lavish houses and buy Mercedes-Benz motor cars for themselves and their very extensive extended families.

The newly created Nibanan Army – formed from the indigenous officers and men of the old RWAFF after their British officers and NCOs had been unceremoniously sacked and repatriated immediately after the independence celebrations – took a dim view of the excesses of the politicians and, twelve months after attaining self-government, in the early hours of the 25th of January 1963, the Obi contingent in the officer corps staged a violent and bloody coup. Having gained full control of the country, they proceeded to murder the Usmar and Yuba politicians, suspend democratic principles and rule by decree, which, not unexpectedly, caused rioting to break out almost everywhere.

In the north, the Usmars slaughtered thousands of Obis in reprisals for the military takeover and the murder of their Usmar politicians. The new military government in Laguna responded by placing the country under strict martial law. Meanwhile, not wishing to suffer further reprisals, the surviving Obis in the north, and to some extent in the south-west, began to migrate to their tribal homelands in the south-east.

After a further twelve months of more corrupt governance from the Obi military, another coup took place. This time it was the Yuba army officers who wrested power from the Obis on the night of the 28/29th of January 1964. More hardship and disorder among the civilian population ensued and thousands of Yubas, mindful of what had happened to the Obis in the north, began to move back to their tribal lands in the south-west.

On the 23rd of January 1966, after two further years of chaos and astonishing corruption, yet another military coup was initiated by Usmar officers and there was little doubt among the Nibana watchers of the world that it was prompted by their eagerness to take their turn with the contents of the national treasury. Having gained control of Government House and the Parliament building in Laguna, they proceeded to slaughter their Yuba counterparts with relish and exert their influence – by means of army roadblocks, summary executions and harsh pronouncements – over the whole of Nibana and its fifty million impoverished and increasingly desperate people.

During all this time, the expatriate community – approximately twenty thousand in number and mainly British in origin – had been largely immune to the many disasters that had befallen Nibana. Their high salaries and completely different lifestyles had insulated them from the deprivations felt by the indigenous population. Many of the expatriates worked for British companies in managerial positions or belonged to that dwindling body of senior civil servants left over from colonial days. In the capital, Laguna, there were many expatriate members of the diplomatic corps, and Laguna Island was the acknowledged headquarters for all the various embassies and high commissions of the nations who undertook business and had diplomatic relations with Nibana. Under the various military governments of Nibana, the list of countries with diplomatic representation increased considerably, especially when countries from the Communist Bloc were allowed to set up shop. Something the British would never have allowed during colonial times.

The one saving grace for Nibana, and whoever was in control at the time, was the fact that oil had been discovered just north of the huge Enube River Delta during the 1950s. At first the test drillings and seismic reports indicated a modest supply capable of earning enough revenue to replenish the stolen funds from the treasury and keep the country moderately ticking over. However, some years later, in 1965, the oil companies found massive reserves in the delta itself and just offshore. Their reports suggested reserves in excess of anything they had produced thus far, which were capable of financing investment in the infrastructure of Nibana for a hundred years or more. In reality of course, when the oil money really started flowing, it simply made the lavish lifestyles of the senior officers who sat on the Army Ruling Council even more lavish and provided them with the wherewithal to pay their soldiers a decent wage – very important in a volatile and corrupt military dictatorship if you wanted to hold on to power – and equip them with some nice, shiny new weapons.

Thus it was that the Usmar officers on the Army Ruling Council – the Yuba and Obi officers being few in number and merely tokens – began to invest in the army, public buildings, airports, roads and dams for water conservation. However, due to the endemic tribalism and nepotism built into the DNA of almost every Nibanan, the dominant Usmar officers made their considerable investments only in the north of the country. As a result, the tribal distrust and enmity increased with every passing year until there was open hostility shown to every northerner by the ‘deprived’ southern tribes of Yubas and Obis.

In colonial times, the British had divided the country into three regions and these were largely based on the tribal boundaries. The coming of independence saw little physical change to these regions and the country was administered on the basis of a federation by the first civilian government. When the military took over, they appointed regional military governors in accordance with the tribe in residence and this only exacerbated the tribalism that had existed for centuries. Therefore, the Western Region, with its mainly Yuba population, had a Yuba military governor and Yuba soldiers based within its borders. It was similarly so for the Usmars in the Northern Region and the Obis in the Eastern Region. Thus, Nibana became, to all intents and purposes, three entirely separate countries within a country, though the outside world still regarded it as a federation of three regions.

With corruption permeating every-day life at all levels of society, tribalism, nepotism, unruly and marauding soldiers, roadblocks at every junction, food and medical resources low and an infrastructure teetering on the edge of failure – except in the north of course – Nibana, in the new year of 1967, was not a very nice place to be. Furthermore, the Obis in the east were now openly calling for secession from the federation because they could no longer trust the other tribes. More importantly, they regarded the oil revenues, generated by drilling operations in their region, as rightly belonging to the people of that region. The main reason given by the regional military governor was that he felt the revenues should be used to compensate the people for the filth, mess and destruction of the environment caused by the oil companies. As it turned out, this was actually the last thing on his mind.

This call for secession and retention of oil revenues by the Obis caused something of an upset for the Usmar members of the Army Ruling Council, who envisaged their personal source of income disappearing fast into a bottomless pit of welfare and infrastructure development in the east. They responded in the only way they knew how, by initiating yet another state of emergency throughout the country, which made life just that little more difficult for everyone.

For the indigenous population there was very little they could do about the deprivations that another spate of martial law inflicted upon them or the dire state of the country’s infrastructure. Everywhere, except in the north, hospitals and schools were closing down through lack of funds. The few roads in the country that were tarred, even in the townships, were crumbling through lack of maintenance and the railways were rendered positively unsafe due to constant locomotive, railway line and signal failures.

Everyone knew the country was in deep trouble, mainly because the export of agricultural produce and minerals, once the backbone of the economy, had disappeared and been replaced by oil revenues. Now those old industries were dead or dying, with thousands of people rendered jobless, simply because the oil industry could not absorb all the surplus labour. Though the facts stared them in the face, the Usmar majority on the Army Ruling Council were unmoved by this shift in the country’s fortunes. Their only interests being their corruption money, their new weapons and keeping the Obi and Yuba sections of the army emasculated, deprived of sophisticated weapons and in their place.

As for the expatriate population, well, if things became unbearable they could always go home. Most white men simply served their eighteen-month tours of duty and returned to their country of origin for three months home leave, and the average total length of stay was usually three to four tours. Nibana had never been designated a ‘settler’ colony; therefore, expatriates were barred from owning land and buildings outright, thus they had no vested interest in the country. However, because Nibana was considered a ‘hardship posting’, their salaries were quite rewarding and their lifestyles so lavish that many