1014 Reporting Deaths

In Central Africa, death was a grave matter and so were burials. The first thing to do

when someone passed on was to convey news of the death.

The deep-seated conflict between Remonin and Good was basically unrelated to Li Du.

Even without him, both camps would have engaged in a battle sooner or later. In fact,

Good would probably have been the one launching an attack on Remonin, perhaps

wiping Remonin's tribe off the surface of the earth.

However, it was undeniable that Li Du had sparked off the battle this time around.

Remonin had fought with the intention of rescuing Li Du, hence, Li Du played an

important role in the entire battle.

As a result, he became an important figure at the burial. Remonin was neither the God

of War nor a great tactical master. However, he was smart enough to stick to Li Du.

Li Du stayed for the burial. He was to participate throughout the procession and be one

of the Death Messengers. 　　

Different tribes of Africa conveyed news of deaths in their unique ways. Some

drummed, some blew the buffalo's horn. Others wailed or hollered, while some had

special equipment to convey the news. Li Du was familiar with all these methods as he

had seen them all.　　

Remonin was the leader of Golden Grass Tribe. His troops self-proclaimed themselves

as freedom fighters and regarded themselves as the tribe's soldiers. However, not all of

the soldiers originated from Golden Grass Tribe. Some came from other places and

tribes.

Forty-five soldiers had lost their lives in the battle. They came from different areas and

many different tribes.

These men did not have much patriotic feeling towards their countries. They were

simple people who did not receive much education and only felt a sense belonging to

their respective tribes. As long as the different tribes did not have a long-standing blood

feud, soldiers belonging to them were happy to fight alongside each other.

A group of the fallen soldiers had been from Swaziland. They shared the same

nationality as Good, but they were also the ones to attack him most aggressively.

Good had been truly vicious. Having governed the area for many years, he had

executed numerous tribal commoners. The tribal people feared and loathed him at the

same time.

Knowing that he was supposed to heading towards the Swaziland tribe to convey news

of the deaths, Li Du protested instantly, "I don't want to visit that country again. What if

the Swaziland government are investigating Good's death?"　　

Remonin said nonchalantly, "Who would be investigating? Don't worry, if the Swaziland

government knew that we were the ones to kill Good, they would likely reward us!"

The government in many African countries detested the military that they were unable to

keep under control. Indeed, the Swaziland government had manifested sharp objection

to Good's practices.

The battle had implicated two countries. However, when Li Du looked it up on the

internet, neither country had reported news of the battle – it was as though the battle

had not happened at all.

Very few people resided near the borders of the African countries. Those who did were

tribal people. They did not know how to surf the internet, read, or write. The battle had

been important to them, but not one of them would be discussing it on the internet, let

alone snapping photos for a global eye-catching report. 　　

Remonin told Li Du that countless skirmishes happened every year at the borders of

African countries. Unless the fight took place near a major city, no media would care. 　

The government could not care less either. They reasoned that if they were unable to

keep the troops under control, it would be beneficial for them to let the warring factions

fight and kill each other off. 　

With Remonin's assurances, Li Du agreed to return to Swaziland.　　

A couple of tribal youths who had stepped out of their armor accompanied him. On the

pickup they were traveling in, the young mean beat the drum as the car drove. 　

The tribe that the deceased soldiers had belonged to was situated not far from the

border. The pickup drove by, passing tents. Some of the tribal people who heard the

drums gathered, peering at the truck.

At that point, the soldiers got off the pickup and conveyed the news of their comrades'

deaths. They identified the families of the deceased, offering them various dry rations,

food, and daily essentials that had been supplied by Remonin.

Watching how the deceased families received these offerings with glee, Li Du said,

"Lives are worthless here!"　　

Brother Wolf shook his head. "It's just the lives of the poor that are worthless."　

In another death messenger trip, he visited a tribe in Mozambique named Hatchbique.

This tribe's death messenger tradition was to bring a steamy humongous bread to the

chief of the tribe.

The tribal chief would cut the bread, and people would go forward to get a piece. Each

piece of bread had a dollar baked into it. Those who managed to get the money would

attend the burial as close relatives of the deceased. 　　

Li Du had donated forty thousand and fifty thousand respectively to the two tribes. He

had allocated ten thousand dollars as pension for each family of a deceased soldier.

After all, the soldiers had lost their lives to rescue him. No matter what, Li Du was in

their debt.

In Africa, US dollars and Renminbi were considered hard currency. He gave the

relatives of the fallen soldiers a stack of US dollars, much to their elation.

As they were leaving the Hatchbique, the tribal chief brought over a bunch of youths

who were all between fifteen and twenty-six years old. 　

The chief asked, "Are you guys still in need of soldiers? All of these men are available,

they are very skillful!"　

The youths nodded and some even removed their shirts to expose their chests, wanting

to show off their muscles to Li Du. Of course, most of them were scrawny and thin, with

barely any muscle on their chests. They were clearly underfed.

Li Du was surprised. "Mr. Chief, do you want to send them to the army? As you have

just seen, soldiers might die!"　　

The chief said with ease, "Won't we all die in the end? If every death could gain their

families ten thousand dollars, I think they would all be willing to die now."

Li Du was speechless. He knew, however, that their principles upbringing, environment,

and culture were all different from what he was used to. He would be unable to change

the chief's way of thinking.　　

Under these circumstances, he could only settle for saying, "I am not a soldier. I do not

have the authority to bring them back to the army camp. Sorry, but we have to leave

now."

The chief was visibly disappointed, and so were the youths. 　

In the car again, Li Du asked the soldier who drove, "Zazakun, did you volunteer to join

the army as well?"

The black youth smiled, revealing white teeth. "Yes. I am different from them, though. I

fought for the Golden Grass tribe, not for money."　　

Another soldier laughed, "Zazakun, boastful Zazakun, I still remember that when you

became a soldier, you were on the verge of starvation."

Zazakun said awkwardly, "I am now fighting for the tribe. I did then too, but at that time,

I admit I was also swayed by knowing I would have food to eat in the army. We have

nine children at home, so do you wonder why we were always hungry?"　　

It was clear to Lu Du now. No wonder it was so easy for the African warlords to recruit

soldiers. It was unsurprising that there was always news of how the government

soldiers and rebel soldiers were fighting. On that piece of land, people did not value life

and did not hesitate to end it.

That was a problem he could not fix. The only thing he could do was console the

families of the dead and offer his money.　　

Initially, he had been unwilling to join the group of messengers. However, after joining,

he realized that the experience enabled him to learn more about Africa. And the more

he saw of it, the sooner he wanted to leave it.