Chapter 3 Chapter Three Tribal Wars

That broken car must have a bad taste of KUSO driving in Taipei City. The shock absorbers failed so that the buttocks took off at any time, and the rear compartment cover sometimes popped open, but no matter what, this broken car is our best means of transportation. . It seemed to be off to a bad start, as it rained heavily on our first drive out of town. The rain was so heavy that I thought the car would stall, and the roof of the car seemed to be hit by bullets constantly. The sound was very scary. If I walked outside with an umbrella, I wouldn’t be too surprised even if the raindrops pierced through the umbrella and hit my head .

"What to do? Is this rain common?" I asked. "The elves are angry. The elves in charge of the neighboring villages are called Alcorolas (transliteration only), a violent five-leaf tree god." Jim said seriously, it seemed that the rain was unusual. The heavy rain made the driving vision very poor. We reluctantly drove to the village under the valley to take a rest and shelter from the rain. The two of us chatted in simple English while listening to the happy music full of Latin flavor played by an old cassette in the car. Jim asked me what I was doing, and I said I was a student, but I was also a writer with more than a dozen books on all kinds of subjects.

Jim nodded, knowingly. But I think he confused writer with researcher. The more bizarre the place, the more there are three kinds of wonderful creatures: anthropologists, archaeologists, and intermediaries. Gambia ranked fourth in the "Wow, it's incredible" country in last year's evaluation by the International Tourism Association, so of course it is a very strange place, and there are many anthropologists.This small African country has more than 50 different races (this division is considered polite, if the locals are allowed to divide it by the surnames of their ancestors and the names of the elves in charge of the tribe, even if there are a thousand races commonplace), whether it is comparative cultural studies, religious anthropology, or any kind of mechanical crooked studies are all suitable for the development of academic research here, even Harvard University's special disease research laboratory has come here to do large-scale genetic sampling (monopolizing a whole The genes of villages are very common, especially in places where there is no intermarriage with other villages, the gene chain will appear very simple).

"Will it rain for a long time?" I said to myself. After all, the heavy rain makes people feel bored. Sitting in a metal car, surrounded by the sound of clanging raindrops crazily, you will get crazy or deaf after a long time. So I opened the umbrella and got out of the car, wandering around, thinking about what the hero A Tuo in the story "Waiting for a Coffee" does all day in this small village where there are almost all children. Fight to the death with animal hunters in blinding rain? Digging for dinosaur poop in a mysterious cave? Falling in love with the chief's daughter?

Suddenly Jim got out of the car nervously, and asked me to get back in the car and stop swaying around, because several militiamen patrolling with guns came in the rain in a jeep, and their faces were not good.I complied sensibly. Although it was a broken car, our car was still too conspicuous, and the passing militiamen stopped to question after discussing for a while.What they are talking about is of course completely out of the question, and I leave it to Jim to answer. I don't even need a translator. I'm only responsible for the innocent smile.It is said that smiling is one of the two most common languages ​​in the world.

However, Jim kept saying that the militiamen kept shaking their heads and scolding, as if Jim's answers were wrong all the way to the end, and if he continued to answer, he would get a zero mark on the test paper. I was a little scared by the side, thinking wildly whether I would be shot to death, and a bunch of novels would be cut off from then on.The endings of many serialized novels are placed in the notebook computer. I hope the teacher will not be so stupid as to throw it into the raging fire of my funeral. Fortunately, the second of the world's two major languages ​​is called money, and we also have this language in our pockets.

I saw Jim hastily pulled out several hundred dong banknotes from his pocket and handed them over to the militiamen, who calmly counted the banknotes while chanting a few words, and distributed the banknotes one by one in front of us. He drove away coldly, as if everything that had just happened was just a pre-written farce. Of course I knew that what Jim just paid out was a fee or a bribe, so his face became even darker than before, and I quickly said that this kind of joint opening fee was of course paid by me, Tell him not to care, after all the militiamen must see me as a foreigner, and I must have money to fish, Jim will be caught in the same boat.

Jim took my opinion for granted, immediately laughed, and said they mistook me for Japanese... "Are there many Japanese here?" I asked. "It's not rare, and the Japanese are very interesting," Jim said. "Interesting? Did they buy a lot?" I wondered. "Some Japanese will take the initiative to stop the militiamen, and after giving them money, they will take pictures with them, and some will take pictures with the militiamen's guns." Jim thought thoughtfully: "The Japanese are a kind of people who like to take pictures. Humanity."

Japan!It really deserves to be the magical country that produces drag king Yoshihiro Token! I was quite shocked, but I was not shocked that the Japanese had the courage to take pictures, but I was shocked that I didn't take pictures with the militia just now.After all, people who can be bought by money usually have a particularly good temper. The big deal is to piss off people, and just use money to get through it again. "What a miscalculation!" I sighed. When I got home in the evening, Jamieson asked me for rice with baked beans. Jamieson explained to me that those militiamen were patrolling the villages to check for guerrillas, because small wars between tribes often turned into collective provocations by tribal alliances, and the defeated party often fled to the mountains to become a self-governing guerrilla army. In the village of the losers, there are only massacres all over the fields, and the black smoke and fire on the thatched huts.

Massacres are very common group sports in tribal wars, but it is not known who is the spectator and who is the athlete. After the massacre, the failed survivors fled to the mountains to hide in a very pitiful situation, because they just failed, but they often had no intention of making a comeback and overthrowing the government. Luckily I don't live here.