At this point, Ramsey continued the conversation raising the topic of cooperation between parties and more important tribal groups. “Who will be the leader of this new society and how will you share power with the government in the capitol?” continued Ramsey.

Before he had quite finished, the young woman spoke up, “Kalumba, our chief…I mean Commander…he will not need to share leadership because the people will all see that he is the only true leader.” Ramsey learned later that although her view as biased by relation (Kalumba was her uncle) she spoke quite accurately for his followers: the Ovimbundu tribe.

“Hm…and what do you think about the MPLA (the Marxist leadership centered in the capitol)? Will they have a role in the leadership of the new society?” asked Ramsey.

Now the seasoned fighter spoke up, “MPLA…”, he uttered each letter with distinct disdain, then spit on the floor of the plane, “those bunch of pombeiros care nothing for the Africans. They only want to be rich. You, you Americans are making them rich…taking our oil and making those mesticos rich.”

So many African republics were really one-party, one leader-for-life states whether or not they espoused pro-West, or pro-East views, thought Ramsey. It was far more consistent with the traditional African kingdom: a feudal system based on one true leader with a few ‘loyal’ barons. The concept of the ‘sharing of power’ between groups in a society which is the underpinning of a pluralistic system did not form a true part of their political consciousness. Basically, there was insufficient trust in any political institution to maintain the dynamic of power-sharing. Trust and loyalty were still only personal. Strongest at the family level, fairly strong at the tribal level and extremely weak any further.

Ramsey had softened up the hard-liners by offering a round of cigarettes to everyone. Then he laid back for a snooze. About an hour had passed when the pilot took the plane into a sharp dive. Caught by surprise, many passengers fell off their seats landing with a thump on the floor. Ramsey woke with a jolt half off his chair gripping the seat. Of course no one had bothered to attach their seat belts. No one complained much; it must have happened frequently. Ramsey learned from the pilot that they were entering airspace defended by MPLA anti-aircraft fire. They were now flying at a low altitude to avoid radar detection.

The contours of the landscape were very clear. Patches of trees, a river, a small settlement. Some thatched roof huts, a patch cultivation, arranged in a jigsaw pattern of various traditional crops probably maize (corn), beans, tomatoes. Ant-like figures were moving back and forth among the fields. Then stretches of uninhabited arid land. Staring at the ground, Ramsey noticed a large clump of strangely uniform bushes, no ragged edges. Just at that moment a flash of white light streaked through the sky and the pilot yelled, “Hold on to your seats.”

Anti-aircraft missiles fired from below – disguised behind the clump of bushes Ramsey had spotted. They had avoided the first firing. Ramsey found himself silently praying they had time to escape its range before the next missile launched. The plane was climbing quickly nearly perpendicular to the ground. Everyone gripped their seats; their knuckles and faces turned white. Some had managed to attach their seat belts. Others were flung to the floor or thrown back and forth between the rows of seats.

Ramsey suddenly felt very queasy. It was the distinct smell of vomit reaching his nostrils. He turned away to focus on the design of the fabric covering the seat in front of him. It was a feeble effort to maintain a slipping sense of equilibrium. Finally, he surrendered. Grabbing a black plastic bag in front of him, he deposited the remains of his breakfast. He was still light-headed, but the angle of the plane was becoming more and more horizontal. He found a half-empty roll of mints in his pocket. He placed one in his mouth, and sucked vigorously, extricating the lingering foul taste.

The fatigue-clad passengers sat in stony silence absorbed in their own thoughts or perhaps no thoughts at all. Everyone copes with fear differently. After about an hour, someone announced that they had entered Ovimbundu territory. There was a great deal of nervous laughter, then chattering. Ramsey thought about how many near misses of death these people must survive. It probably reinforced their fatalistic attitudes.