Read Online You Must Set Forth at Dawn by Wole Soyinka - Free Book Online Page B

camp opened in Nottingham in the North of England. I signed up immediately. This was closer to the kind of training I needed. I must state this clearly: I did not intend to go into Hungary to fight, but there were support functions that I felt I could perform for the cause of those nationalists in return for my training. A black face would be far too conspicuous in the midst of such a war, and sympathetic though I was to the Hungarian national cause and the right to take up arms to repel a bully— even an ideologically progressive one—I had my priorities and could not really see how a black face would be justified in slinging Molotov cocktails in the streets of Budapest. The prospect of getting killed in a strange land that I knew only from history books and for its robust red wine Egri Bikaver struck me as grotesque—a black festering corpse alone in a snow-clad street, all other casualties vanishing into the protective coloring of their natural environment? On the other hand, that prospect was balanced by the lure of acquiring the experience of urban warfare, which, according to the news bulletins, was largely what the Hungarian nationalists were waging against superior forces—Molotov cocktails against tanks, street-to-street fighting. It looked like a perfect rehearsal opportunity for what we had conjured up—
Destination, Johannesburg!
    Given the unpredictable situation in Hungary, the uncertainty of my position resulted in my writing a rare letter to Essay—my father—taking him into my confidence. It seemed only fair, in case I was wounded, taken prisoner, or worse. Only years later did I find it curious that I ever imagined that his response would be at least sympathetic, albeit disapproving. Instead, it was scathingly dismissive. I could picture him seated at his desk, his pen moving swiftly and noisily over the lined sheets: “You were sent over there to study. In any case, charity begins at home, so if you feel inclined to jeopardise your studies by succumbing to some warlike urge, kindly return home and make this your battlefield.” It was such an infuriatingly rational response that I refused to write him another letter for even longer than usual. And the abrupt end of the conflict appeared to have taken his side. The Hungarian resistance collapsed and any further discussion became academic, with him having won the argument by default. I felt intensely annoyed and held him personally responsible for the defeat of the Hungarian nationalists.
    ESSAY WAS RIGHT, though he did not know it at the time, although “prescient” would be a more accurate expression for his proposed amendment to my battle plans. Indeed, I often wondered if, once I had become embroiled within my own borders, he did not wish from time to time that he had encouraged me to go and take my chances on the Hungarian front! By then, of course, he no longer had a say in the matter, because in the meantime, in company with my University of London/Porchester Terrace master planners, I had made a startling discovery!
    The nationalists, the first-generation elected leaders and legislators of our semi-independent nation, had begun to visit Great Britain in droves. We watched their preening, their ostentatious spending, and their cultivated condescension, even disdain, toward the people they were supposed to represent. There were exceptions, but, in the main, they did not appear to have emerged from the land and people we had left behind when we journeyed out to acquire some skills and learning. While we dreamed of marching south to liberate southern Africa, they saw the nation as a prostrate victim to be ravished. We accepted invitations to their public talks and informal meetings, even partook of their lavish receptions. Some were stark illiterates, though full of bombast. This strange breed was a complete contrast to the nationalist stalwarts into whose hands we had imagined that the country could be safely