Darkness is Coming

  Mark Kazonga can understand the resentment of his relatives. If they can live, how many people are willing to die? After all, if he was a few decades younger, maybe he wouldn't stay here and die.

   Up to now, Mark Kazunga can be described as a betrayal of relatives, and there are only a few minor servants who are still loyal to Mark Kazonga.

Ironically, even in the days when Mark Kazonga was regarded as the savior by the people, he never thought of seeking benefits for the servants around him, but it was the people who got the least from him. Stayed by his side until the end.

"Your Excellency President?" The old servant who was old and vicissitudes of life said again, and Mark Katsunga came back to his senses. He carefully looked at the servant's wrinkled face and the slightly trembling hand holding the tray. His face was as rough as a poor rag. His hands were as thin as chopped wood, and anyone would think he was at least ten years older than Mark Katsunga just by his looks, but the truth was the opposite.

   "Leave the coffee." Mark Kasonga raised his hand to the coffee, added sugar to it himself, and added a sentence that the servant couldn't believe, "Thank you, Mangoche."

Mangoche froze suddenly, and with a flick of his wrist, the tray in his hand almost fell to the ground. Since he can remember, he has been serving Mr. Marco, who is now His Excellency the President. Half a century has passed and he has never heard of it. Your Excellency the President says thank you to yourself.

This does not mean that Mr. Mark is an arrogant and rude person. Mangoche is his servant, and Mangoche's parents are his parents' servants. The genealogy has been traced back, and it has been the case for generations, even Mangoche himself. It is only natural that he believes that his only mission is to serve Mr. Mark, and that his children and grandchildren should continue to serve Mr. Mark's children and grandchildren.

   Therefore, this thank you is too extravagant and too heavy for Mangoche to bear.

   "Your Excellency the President..." Mangoche twitched his lips.

"It won't be president soon." Mark Kazonga sighed and said, "Mangoche, if I'm sorry for anyone in my life, it's only my deceased wife, my granddaughter and you, listen to me, Bring the most valuable things here and leave this ghost place as soon as possible, you have at least 20 years to live, you should go to see the outside world, you don’t have to stay here to be buried with me.”

"The outside world? No, no, no." Mangoche was trembling all over. He had been by Mr. Mark's side for decades. Although he didn't have the brand of a servant, his heart was already chained. How could he walk away? outside world?

Mark Kazonga looked at Mangoche's fearful appearance, and was filled with emotion. This old servant who was always hiding in his shadow was not afraid of staying here and waiting to die, but he was afraid of leaving the invisible world that had trapped him for decades. Cage, dare not walk into the outside world alone.

  The servility of people is so terrifying.

Thinking of his children and grandchildren, and those compatriots who left Malawi with the Holy Family, Mark Kazonga looked sad and bleak. In a few years, will they also become the same as Mangoche and tie themselves to themselves. Invisible shackles, self-confessed servants of the saints, serving the saints forever without any regrets, and then spent a meaningless life in ignorance and fear?

"Then, it's up to you to decide whether to stay or go." Mark Kazunga waved his hand sullenly. He wanted to order Mangoche to leave, but Mangoche listened to his orders all his life, and finally let him Be his own master for once. "Go and invite the reporter in."

  Mangoche responded and bowed out of the study.

After a while, there was a knock on the door of the study, and after Mark Kazonga said to come in, a young man wearing black-rimmed glasses, a leather jacket, a shirt, and Martin boots and jeans walked in. From his grotesque The outfit and his messy hairstyle can tell that this is a slovenly guy.

  Mark Kazonga frowned slightly, even if he was out of power soon, this reporter should pay attention to his image and do the most basic respect when interviewing himself. If the war correspondent named "Tang Fei" had not been nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, Mark Kazonga would never have agreed to this interview.

Immediately afterwards, another white man with a camcorder walked into the room, causing Mark Kazonga's brows to wrinkle even more. Judging from the equipment they used, the two did not look like professional reporters at all. Demonstrate due professionalism.

"Your Excellency, it's a pleasure to meet you." Tang Fei still had a piece of chewing gum on his teeth and couldn't speak clearly, but he didn't feel that his behavior was rude at all. Plus reach out.

"Before you sit down, I need to remind you that Malawi is not the United States. The political struggle here is much more simple and crude than the United States, and it is even more **** and dark. If I am not wrong, the team sent to assassinate me It's already on the way, and there's probably more than one, you know that they won't be merciful and let the witnesses go, so if you don't want to die, you'd better get out of here as soon as possible." Mark Kazonga did not tell Tang Fei Shaking hands, he didn't say these words entirely for the lives of the two young people, but partly because he lost interest in talking after seeing the lazy appearance of the two reporters.

"Oh, to be precise, three teams, two of which are dead men selected from the local guards, brave enough to run through fires and broken glass with bare feet, but more than When it comes to firearms, they are more skilled with machetes and harpoons. This kind of idiot who only pulls the trigger to the end in a fight is nothing to be afraid of. But the other team is very interesting. The international mercenaries hired are very professional. They were hired by the government forces during the Libyan civil war. I heard that they have achieved a lot of achievements. Hey, in order to deal with an unarmed old man, these people really spare no effort. I am surprised that such an official who is not considered a high-ranking official can actually afford the famous 'Blood Skull'." Tang Fei was chewing gum while talking eloquently, spittle flying.

  Mark Kasonga looked at Tang Fei in disbelief. He thought it was just rambling, but Tang Fei's determined demeanor made him shaken.

   "Well, it looks like they will be here in five minutes. Let's talk first." Tang Fei smiled and made a gesture to the side. The white reporter immediately took out a folding frame and started recording.