Dirty African Fiction

I recently saw on the news that Moses N’Komo had died
in his luxury villa on the shores of Lake Lugarno. He
had lived in Switzerland for many years, ever since he
fled the African Republic of Malindi where he had been

N’Komo was born the son of a tribal chief, in the days
when the country was still a British colony, and
educated at a public school in England and Oxford
University. Whilst at university he developed a taste
for white girls, a taste which because of his good
looks, huge cock and great stamina, he found easy to

On his return to Malindia, however, he found that
things were not as good. The country was looking
towards apartheid run South Africa for leadership, and
well educated black men were considered something of a
danger. He only managed to get a menial job in the
Civil Service, taking orders from white men who were
rude and uneducated. He was angry at his situation but
didn’t know what to do about it.

One day he entered one of the few bars that served
black men and got into conversation with a white woman
who appeared friendly. They were both flirting with
each other when her drunken husband returned and threw
a punch at Moses. The punch missed by a mile, but Moses
hit the man twice knocking him out.

The police were called but Moses fled to the bush where
he joined the freedom fighters. The Malindian
Liberation Army was not very effective at fighting the
colonial power, but under N’komo’s leadership things
changed. Thousands of young blacks joined his group,
which became so successful that within two years the
British had thrown in the tail. Moses N’Komo emerged
from the bush as first President of an independent

The whites were given the choice of remaining British
or taking up Malindian citizenship, they all decided to
stay British. Some rightly had their resident’s visa’s
revoked for racist behaviour, like calling Africans
“Filthy Wogs”, but the other people were thrown out of
the country for no good reason.

My wife Sally and I had lived in Malindi since before
its independence, and had always gotten on well with
the locals. We couldn’t understand why we should have
got a letter from the new government saying that we
were under investigation for “anti Malindian”
activities. Strangely, two days later we received
invitations to meet the president at Government House.

There were about eight white couples there when we
arrived, all looking somewhat worried. I found out that
all of us had also received threatening letters from
the government. All the men wore dinner jackets and the
wives cocktail dresses. Most of us were in our twenties
or early thirties and all the women were beautiful. The
only exception was Major Hemsley-Smythe and his wife.
The major was in his fifties whilst his wife was some
ten years younger. She was still an absolute knockout
of a woman tall, with a slim waist and large breasts.

We were given glasses of a peculiar tasting drink,
which I later found out was a powerful aphrodisiac; the
waiters kept refilling our glasses, almost forcing it
down us. We waited for the President with a mixture of
fear and excitement.

Suddenly we were confronted by a senior army officer
who told us that we had to do exactly what we were told
to do without hesitation, or we would be on the next
plane out of the country, never to return. As we all
had homes and businesses in Malindi we were terrified
at the prospect of being thrown out at a moments

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