My own war game

Chapter 337 Nonviolent Revolutionaries

The game on the field was coming to an end, and the team led by Margaret won by a narrow margin.

Jima, the maid, brought some soda, and Margaret and the children tilted their heads back and drank it. The liquid flowed down the corners of the girl's mouth, slid down her white neck, and finally disappeared at her slender collarbone.

"Your hostess is very special, different from other white people." Young Mandela looked at the scene in front of him without hiding his surprise.

"He may be the most special one." He Chi looked at the crazy girl who raised her arms in the field, preparing to play another round, and said in a slightly doting tone.

When it comes to being eccentric, Margaret is definitely an outlier in the entire royal family. Her sister Elizabeth might also get along well with these children, but that would be with care from top to bottom. She would never roll on the grass with the children.

From another perspective, Margaret is more down-to-earth and more approachable to people at the bottom of society, but she just didn't have the opportunity to display this strength in the past.

He Chi looked at Mandela in front of him and asked, "You said you were a lawyer?"

"Yes, sir." Mandela nodded slightly. "You know, South Africa's current laws are very harsh on indigenous people, especially the apartheid policy, which deprives most people of their rights."

“I hope to do my part to rescue people from this situation, of course through legal means.”

He Chi raised an eyebrow. "Non-violent non-cooperation?"

"Yes, I think that no matter what the circumstances, violence can only lead to bloodshed and sacrifice, and it cannot solve the problem. As long as those in power see the power of the people, they will make the right choice."

He Chi didn't say anything, but just picked up his bottle of soda.

Judging from his performance in the national liberation movement, Mr. Mandela, like his predecessor Gandhi, belongs to the "Southern School", which aims to push those in power to make political reforms through relatively mild means without bloodshed, cooperation or violence.

He did not want to judge whether this approach was correct, but whether it was India or South Africa in the future, the series of hidden dangers left behind by incomplete reforms were obvious.

"Mr. He Chi, you are not white either. If you have time, I hope you can learn about this." Mandela took out a printed bilingual leaflet from his arms and stuffed it over.

He Chi took the thing and took a look at it, and found that it was actually a political party's policy platform.

"African National Congress of South Africa?" He Chi read out the name above.

"Yes, Mr. He, our goal as the African National Congress is to improve people's living conditions step by step and abolish racial policies within the framework of the law. I personally hope that people like you can become our friends."

"Mr. Mandela, I respect your choice, but I want to ask, you gave up the violent struggle, but what if one day the government uses violent means to suppress you?"

Mandela thought for a moment and then replied, "I still won't choose violence. If my personal sacrifice can awaken more people's will for freedom, it will be a glorious thing."

"But what if the gun is pointed at more than just you? In the future you may have a high social status, and those in power may not try to kill you for fear of the impact, but your followers may die because of this choice." He Chi stared at the other party and asked.

The black guy looked at the other person in surprise. "Are you serious? What you just said is like some kind of prophecy."

"It's not a prophecy, it's just a guess about what might happen."

"Well... I'm sorry, I haven't thought about it yet." Mandela answered hesitantly, and it was obvious that he himself hadn't thought it through.

He Chi probably understood the other party's current state. Mandela had just started politics when he was young, and he was still relatively naive. It was not until the bloody Sharpewell Massacre ended ten years later that he gradually considered the form of armed struggle. "Let's talk about politics later. Now I just want to accompany my mistress to manage this land well." He Chi ended the topic without leaving a trace.
-
Since that day, the villagers knew that a strange neighbor family had moved into their neighborhood.

The hostess was very kind, not at all like the other white people who spoke harshly, and she was very popular with the children.

The man who called himself the butler was responsible for managing everything in the manor. He neither hired workers nor bought equipment. He just went out regularly every day to inspect the surrounding environment.

Some people say they are here to look for diamonds, but can they really get anything like this?

The villagers didn't understand, but as long as the other party didn't expel them, they were happy to live in peace, neither getting close nor distant.

Lawyer Mandela would often sit opposite him and sometimes talk to the man for a long time.

One morning, the black guy came again.

"Sorry, He is out and will probably be back around noon." Jima, who was acting as a maid, opened the door.

"I want to visit Miss Erica today. It won't take much time." Mandela bowed slightly at the door. The Erica he mentioned was Margaret's pseudonym.

"Please wait a moment. The young lady is performing horse riding for the children. I will go and inform them."

When Mandela arrived on the playground, Margaret, dressed in a red outfit, had just urged her mount over the last obstacle, and the children behind her cheered loudly for her.

Mandela looked at the girl in front of him who was as dazzling as the sun and was unsure of her identity.

He was also from an upper-class family and had received a good education. He knew that there were very few female riders among the nobility. Even if there were women learning to ride, they would sit sideways with their legs together. Almost no noble woman would do this action of spreading her legs and attaching to the horse's back.

It can be said that Erica's behavior can be considered rude in the eyes of some people.

But such a person can actually exude the aura of a superior. He himself has local royal blood, but when facing this opponent, he unconsciously puts himself in the position of an inferior.

This is really weird.

"Mr. Mandela, is there something on my face?" The hostess who was walking over with the horse tilted her head and looked at her.

"No, ma'am, I just felt that you looked very cool just now." Mandela showed proper courtesy and then changed the subject naturally. "I want to tell you that you may have been fooled."

"Fooled?"

"Yes, I just found the information about this area from the Municipal Bureau." Mandela took out a few pieces of paper written in English. "This mining area was completely exhausted a few years ago. If you want to mine diamonds again, you need to buy a large amount of equipment and hire hundreds of workers to find new veins. But it is almost impossible to make money in this way."

Hearing this news, the hostess's face did not show any surprise. She said nonchalantly, "I have already handed the work over to He. I don't intend to interfere in this regard."

"Ma'am, you are not professionals. It is totally impossible for Mr. He to find the mineral deposit alone..." Mandela looked a little anxious, fearing that his friendly neighbors would suffer.

"Are there any guests coming?" He Chi's voice came from the door, with a bulging small bag in his hand.

(End of this chapter)