[Slokais]

The sun glittered off the jeep's roof, each bump of the road shifting the light, thankfully Ousmane Ndeye had sunglasses. He also had an earthly spotlight, as this was a political rally. Unlike politicians in other countries, where each candidate ran his campaign and focused on certain issues, Ousmane was just a puppet. However, unlike the other political hacks who signed up for this, Ousmane was just born into the wrong family. Across the side of the car, a banner read “Ousmane Ndeye for Deputy of Thiayone-Botou”. His party-picked assistant, Thierno handed him a megaphone
“Use this when we get into town, people will gather”
Ousmane was also handed a list of KLF-U Party talking points. Not that anybody over 5 years old hadn't heard it repeated many times.
Kids stopped playing football to run up to the car, yelling “Le caid, le caid” Some of them just ran to keep along the car. Next came the grown men, dressed in kaftan’s waiving green flag’s the symbol of the Koldan Liberation Front. Eventually, the jeep came to a slow in the center of town, where several local KLF-U candidates had already gathered, as soon as he arrived in the plaza a cheer went up from the crowd.
“Long live the Union, Long live the Revolution, Long live Gano”
Thierno cringed a little when he heard that last part. Seynbou Gano had been the long-time President until 2011 when he was ousted by the military before that military govermeant was ousted by Edouard Senghor. The people still loved Gano, as he had liberated Kolda from minority rule and was seen as the father of the nation, even as some within the party cringed at Gano’s socialist economic policy. Ousmane personally favored Gano over Senghor, although Gano enacted authoritarian means, his goals were admirable. However, Ousmane's father the regional party secretary who was now on stage with some of the party list candidates, was a Senghor loyalist. As a reward, he had been made the Party Secretary of the Riviere’s Region, the most populous in the country.

After the rally was done, Ousmane’s father found him backstage pouring himself coffee.
“Son, you need to be more expressive, you looked like a statue out there,” his father said, as if he was a football player who had made a crucial error.
“Next time, be more expressive, we won’t retain this District if you are not active”
Ousmane turned away from his father as he added cream to his cup. “I feel like the party program is too limiting, the people want something new”
“That’s what the last candidate said, he barely scraped by a majority, that’s why I suggested the Revolutionary Committee pick you, you were so full of energy when you were young”
Ousmane sighed and walked to his own personal car, an old pre-war AMCA Nationale restored by Ousmane himself.
As he turned the keys into his car, he said to no one in particular.
“If it’s something I actually care about”
His father just stood and watched as his son drove away.

Mbaye had talked to several people at Prison-Mart, and each seemed to know the Ada Diallo’s. Many seem surprised, at least by their expressions. After some time, she found an off-shit Prison Mart employee to take to the Ada Diallo residence. Mbaye returned to her motorbike, as the young man named Assaine rode through Diawara. Eventually, they were on the backroads outside of town, following old logging and farming roads. Through her conversations with the good people of Diawara, she found out the Ada Diallo’s were wealthy landowners who were able to take advantage of land redistribution. Much of rural Kolda, was a small concentrated town with vast reserves meant for workers and farmers to settle upon. However, corruption in the 90s meant many people did not receive the land they had been promised.

Before independence, Arivee settlers occupied massive amounts of land building their communities and converting locals. Even though almost all had either moved to Brissiac or to urban areas. Their old estates still remained deep within the semi-arid forests. Assaine eventually stopped outside one of these old estates, except the design had been significantly modified.
“Well Madame, here it is the House of Ada Diallo,” Assiane said gesturing to the building.
The house had the traditional Laerlian-style columns, that had been pained in a vibrant muti-colored pattern. The lawn of the manor was filled with several feet-high wood carvings each incredibly detailed. Mbaye opened the black iron gates and into a small garden. Water trickled from somewhere nearby, a large cross towered over a maze of paths and greenery. Then Mbaye saw an older man, facing away from her. Was this her father?