As they drove north for more than ten kilometers, they passed by a number of tents. Then, more tents appeared in front of them.
The jeep stopped, and the soldiers went down to keep watch. After ensuring safety, Remonin got out of the car and waved. "Mr. Li, please come over here."
What appeared in front of Li Du was an African market, an open-air place set in the middle of a settlement.
There were no roads, only dirt roads. Because it was the dry season, there was a lot of sand and dust. They could not drive forward, or the car would create a lot of dust, and the market would not be able to continue.
Li Du took off his sunglasses and gave them to Brother Wolf. He walked over to Remonin and asked, "Those people on the road, are they your tribesmen?"
Remonin nodded. "Yes."
Li Du wondered, "There is no shortage of sand here. Why don't you live in houses? Why do you live in tents?"
Remonin smiled. "Because we, the golden grass, are a traditional tribe that combines hunting and farming. In the past, we often migrated, looking for places with abundant water and grass to farm and hunt. Building a house is not as convenient as using tents.
Besides, tents are enough. The weather in Mozambique is good. When it is not very cold, it is enough to shelter us from the wind and rain. "
Li Du said, "But your military camp is full of houses."
Remonin said matter-of-factly, "Of course. My house is not only for people to live in, but also for defense. If there is a battle, it is a bunker for the soldiers!"
Li Du was shocked. Brother Black, do you still use bows and arrows to fight? That small shabby house, there is no need for artillery, just a rocket launcher, or even a large-caliber rifle!
Remonin was obviously aware of the problems in his military camp and area. He was a proud man and did not want to talk too much about this topic. He said, "Come on, Mr. Li, let us move around a bit. We can talk as we walk."
The soldiers cleared the way, and there were soldiers beside them with guns on guard.
At first, the market was in a state of panic, but gradually, the soldiers stopped making trouble. They just strolled around, so the panic subsided and returned to normal.
The bazaar was quite big, about two hundred meters long. It was bustling with people, at least one or two thousand, haggling noisily.
There were no shops here, only stalls. The peddlers sat on the ground, barefooted and bare-chested. Their stalls were casually placed on the ground. If someone came, they would talk business. If no one came, they would shout at the top of their lungs.
Remonin told Li Du that they were not bidding, they were singing.
These black brothers and sisters were really optimistic. There was an open space next to the market. There were a few iron buckets erected in the open space. Some black people were beating the iron buckets, while others sang and danced around them.
There were many people in the market, and it was very crowded. However, the security was not bad. No one pushed or stole.
Of course, this had something to do with the power to maintain law and order. Remonin's Democratic Army was in charge of law and order. In the 200-meter market, there were at least ten black soldiers with guns staring at the crowd.
Under such circumstances, if a thief was discovered, it was very likely that he would be shot dead.
The market was a barter system. The stalls mainly sold daily necessities of the locals and fresh fruits and vegetables from the jungle.
Daily necessities were mainly agricultural and sideline food processed by the locals themselves, which could be exchanged with food stamps or with what they had on hand. There was no clear price tag.
Someone was selling money. Yes, he was selling money. There was a stack of large bills in front of the man. Li Du went up to take a look. Damn, it was a string of zeros. He could not count how many billions it was.
Needless to say, it was Cecil dollars.
Li Du smiled bitterly. Cecil dollars were much larger than the currency of the underworld in China. It seemed that the inflation in the underworld was not serious.
There was no local market for Cecil dollars. An old black man sat there dejectedly, his hands on his stomach, looking very sad.
It was the first time Li Du had seen a Cecil dollar. He asked, "How much do you want to exchange for this?"
The old man blinked, opened his mouth and murmured a few words. Li Du did not understand a word.
Remonin, who was next to him, said, "He wants to eat. He sneaked here from Cecil and wants to exchange money for some food. In Cecil, you can't buy food even if you have money."
Cecil had suffered a drought. What used to be the granary of Africa had now become an African famine.
Li Du waved to Godzilla. Godzilla always had food in his backpack.
When the big man came over, the old black man was shocked. His knees gave way and he knelt down!
If Li Du had not experienced it himself, he would not have believed such a thing if he had heard it from someone else.
People in many parts of Africa had no human rights at all. They lived like livestock.
Li Du opened Godzilla's backpack, took out a bag of dried lamb and handed it to the old man. Then he took out a note and put it in his wallet as a souvenir.
The old man took the dried meat and smelled it. He held it in his arms and laughed excitedly. He waved his hand and pushed the note to Li Du. Then he stood up and left.
Li Du was surprised. "All of it?"
Remonin said, "You will lose all of it. This kind of money is worse than waste paper. You can only hold it in your hand and use it as a fire."
Lion Hunter added, "If you go to the bank to exchange it, it is not worth a dollar. Of course, no bank will accept it. "
The Cecil government did not intend to print money anymore. It wasn't that they had a conscience and wanted to control the domestic inflation rate, but that printing money required the consumption of paper, electricity, and ink. There were also costs involved. Now, the money they printed couldn't even recoup their costs!
A black teenager ran over to Li Du with a box in his arms and said, "Hey, baked banana, delicious baked banana. Do you want a baked banana?"
Li Du raised the Cecil dollar and asked, "How much can I get for this?"
The teenager shook his head. "I don't want this, I want that."
He pointed to Li Du's chest, where a pair of sunglasses hung.
"Sunglasses can be exchanged for meat. I'll give you this piece of meat." The boss patted the purplish-red meat on the chopping board with his greasy black hand.
The teenager cried, "This is a traveler's banana. Who wants your stinky meat?"
Mozambique was hotter than South Africa. It was closer to the equator, and September had already started. Such a piece of meat would not taste good outside.
Li Du stepped back. The teenager looked at Godzilla again. "Traveler's banana, delicious baked banana. Can I exchange it for your sunglasses?"
Godzilla looked at him in confusion and said, "My sunglasses are too big. Are you sure?"
The teenager said, "Anyway, one day, I will be as big as you."
Godzilla shrugged, took off the sunglasses and hung them on the teenager's chest. He took away the box, and the golden bananas inside naturally belonged to him.
"Bananas can be eaten roasted?" Li Du wondered.
Brother Wolf said calmly, "He has been cheated. Traveler's banana is not a banana. I don't know where the kid got the name. Traveler's banana is an ornamental plant. Its rhizome has a strong ability to store water, but it does not produce bananas."
Godzilla did not care. He ate voraciously.
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