CHAPTER 8

“SO YOU MET THE emperor?” Rutherford asked at dinner that night.

“He was very impressive,” Ceseli answered.

“I agree,” Rutherford said, puffing on his pipe. “He is an absolute monarch like those in Siam and Afghanistan. He is not vastly rich. He lives within his means like a gentleman and spends the state’s money on the state. He’s a good father and loves his children. He likes good wines, books, music, his private cinema, horses, and his dogs. Before all this WalWal business, he had thought of importing sailboats to use on Lake Zwai. That is the limit of his extravagance.”

Rutherford paused, intent on his reflections. “Right after his coronation he set up a constitution and a parliament so leaders would gain experience in running the country. He has been trying to centralize the government, but it’s a slow process because tribes like the Azebu Gallas resist his rules. But he is moving forward. And don’t underestimate for a minute the Empress Menen. She is not only the mother of his six children, she is his closest confidant and advisor. She’s also an extremely astute business woman, right Standish?”

“The emperor, Empress Menen and others took a huge track of two thousand acres near the railroad to Djibouti and irrigated it to grow coffee, citrus, grapes, nuts, sugar cane, and kapok. They earned huge profits. Menen governed a vast area down there. They also let farmers of the Oromos tribe become sharecroppers and join in some of the well-being.”

“Decidedly a very shrewd woman.” Rutherford added. “And a good match for Tafari. But everything about this man is extraordinary, including how he became the emperor.”

“How do you mean?” Ceseli asked.

“Succession in Ethiopia is not like it is in Europe. The eldest child does not automatically inherit the crown. You do have to be a direct descendent of Solomon and of the Amharic people, but it is the most powerful person in the family who becomes the king of kings. Menelik had no sons so he designated his grandson, Iyasu, as his successor and that proved to be a real disaster.”

“What happened to Iyasu?” Ceseli asked.

“He decided to convert to Islam, wanted to deny the Amharic people their traditional power and make Islam equal to the Coptic Church. Everyone opposed him, particularly the Church. There was almost a civil war. The solution was to depose Iyasu and make Menelik’s daughter, Zauditu, the empress. Installing Tafari, that’s his baptismal name, Haile Sellassie is his throne name, as her regent was also a very popular and politically astute move,” Rutherford said. “Let’s sit outside. It’s such a beautiful night and I could use a brandy,” he said as he walked out to the verandah. “Tafari became emperor only five years ago, you realize. By the way, get Standish to tell you about the coronation. It’s a wonderful story.”

“The emperor told us that he took a lion to the king of Italy.”

“I wish a lion would satisfy them now,” Rutherford looked up at the sky and sipped his brandy.

“But why WalWal?” she asked.

“Water,” Rutherford answered. “Controlling the southeastern Ogaden desert can only be done by controlling the water supply at WalWal. The emperor has his own reasons for wanting the League to find in his favor. If WalWal belongs to him, he can trade it to the British in exchange for a port on the Red Sea. He has tried several times to acquire a port, but for one reason or another, France, England, and Italy have all turned him down. They own all the land along the Horn of Africa. This is his last chance.”

“And that’s why Italy doesn’t want him to get it.”

Standish and Rutherford nodded together.

“Do you have a copy of my father’s paper on WalWal?” Ceseli asked Standish.

“Yes. Come to my office tomorrow morning.”

The next morning, Ceseli opened the door to Standish’s office, surprising him sitting with his feet up on the desk and his chair tilted backward. It was the first time she’d been to his office. She sat down on the only wooden chair not covered by books, as he went to a shelf and began rummaging through papers. Next to the wall map of Africa was a photo of President Roosevelt. The floor-to-ceiling bookcases were all jammed. More books were piled on the floor. Outside the French doors she could see that the tortoises were sunning themselves.

“Here it is, a little worse for wear. If you want you can read it here.”

“I understand what he’s saying about WalWal, but I don’t understand why the United States didn’t join the League of Nations?” Ceseli asked after she had finished reading.

“We were afraid of getting involved in other wars. Then President Wilson had a stroke. He was the real inspiration for the League.”

“But we fought in World War I.”

“Only at the end. There was no alternative. But the Republicans hid behind the isolation issue. You know what that means?”

“That a nation should not get involved in the troubles of other countries,” Ceseli answered as she studied Standish.

“The founding fathers believed that the oceans would protect us, and our ideals of freedom and equality. We didn’t want other countries to dominate us, particularly, Great Britain.” Standish added. “Let’s not forget the Boston Tea Party.”

“That was a long, long time ago.”

“But the principle is the same. We like to get involved only when it comes to expanding our markets. I’m here to work on Ethiopia’s economic development, stimulate the trade in coffee, and develop the project for the dam across the Blue Nile. That would earn the U.S. a great deal of money.”

“But getting back to the League. Daddy argues that the basis of the functioning of the League is that each country, big or small, has only one vote.”

“That’s part of the Covenant of the League of Nations. But in reality, the League is dominated by its two strongest members, Great Britain and France.”

“Standish, what made you come to Ethiopia?”

“Yifru used to come to our house every Sunday for dinner. My father and he would discuss ways to improve life here. Then when I finished graduate school at Princeton, Yifru invited me to come for three months and help him in the preparations for the coronation. That was in 1930. It was an amazing experience. Afterwards, I joined the State Department and was posted to the League in Geneva. While I was in Geneva, the League was still involved in some important issues as a result of the World War I. Fifteen, even twenty years though it may seem a lot, is not much time to settle all the problems that started because of that war. There were problems with new borders and new frontiers. We needed to find a place for refugees and decide how to limit the trade in narcotics.”

“You were involved in that?”

“So was your father. We were observers. The only real difference between being an observer and being a member was that the U.S. didn’t have a vote. But your father was a very influential person and he was consulted on several important issues. He believed in collective security, that by joining the League, each country would be protected. That’s also what the emperor believes and why he joined the League. After WalWal, I actually advised the emperor to send a telegram to the League denouncing the Italian action at WalWal.”

“Standing up to Mussolini?”

“Your father was against Mussolini. He thought he was a bully and you had to stand up to him. And Hitler as well.”

“You think that the British and the French will stand up to Mussolini?”

“I certainly hope they will.”

After Ceseli left, Standish put his feet back onto the desk and stared at the map of Africa. On his desk was his most treasured possession: a hardball of the New York Yankees, signed by Babe Ruth, the Sultan of Swat, and next to it a signed photo of the Babe. Standish picked up the hardball and clenched it in his hand, remembering.

It had been a beautiful warm day. He sat in the bleachers at Yankee Stadium between his father and Yifru. It was his birthday. He offered the popcorn to Yifru who was dressed in a long blue kaftan. It was his native costume, he told Standish, and showed him that there were pants underneath. It looks more like something my mother would wear around the house, Standish thought.

Standish had carefully explained to Yifru all the rules of baseball. You hit the ball and run to first. Then the next batter tries to hit the ball. If you’re really lucky someone will hit a homerun and that meant at least another point. The very best that could happen would be a homerun with someone on each base. But the Yankees weren’t doing so well this afternoon.

“What do you think, Standish?” Yifru asked him, taking a handful of popcorn.

Standish’s father winked at Yifru over his head. “It’s okay.”

Suddenly the ball was flying out over center field. Lots of people were on their feet. You could hardly see. “Wow!” Yifru yelled, jumping to his feet and clapping enthusiastically. “Look at that. Did you see that, Standish? That was some homerun.”

Standish looked up at him. Tears were prickling his eyes.

“Well! You said you wanted a homerun,” Yifru shouted, above the din and looking at the young boy. “What did you think?”

Standish’s father caught Yifru’s eye. Standish looked up at Yifru. “It’s the White Socks.” Standish looked at him miserably. “Not the Yankees.”

“Oh.”

Standish pitched the ball into his left hand. He had forgiven Yifru after a while. You can’t know everything about baseball the first time. Yifru had redeemed himself in Standish’s eyes by buying him the photograph of Babe Ruth. The ball he had caught himself at another game. There was certainly going to be a game of hardball in the near future. He wondered who would win.