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Chapter 21 A Funeral in Moscow, via Africa Scarcely a week after returning to Washington from two solid months on the campaign trail, Vice President Bush set off on a major swing through Africa—with a dramatic and unanticipated side trip. Wednesday, 10 November 1982 As I did before April’s trip to Asia, I walked to the Observatory, reaching the hill just as the helo came out of a soft yellow sky. All passengers on Marine —the Bushes, the Admiral, Jennifer, Kim Brady, and I—smiled bravely at each other, knowing we were off on the most challenging trip of the Administration, both diplomatically and physically. Old reliable SAM  is completely filled with passengers, food, gifts, and luggage.The stewards had to appropriate one of the rear lavatories for bags. Tightly packed into the forward lounge are Peace Corps director Loret Ruppe and her husband, ex-congressman Phil; black Republican and businessman Art Fletcher; Dr. Benjamin Payton, president ofTuskegee; Dr. Louis Sullivan, president of Morehouse Medical School in Atlanta; Admiral Murphy, Jennifer, and I. We lifted off from Andrews at : a.m. on the longest single leg of the trip: almost seven hours to the island of Sal in Cape Verde [off the northwest coast of Africa]. It is a level and utterly desolate island on which is located the international airport. Cape Verde became independent of Portugal in , and though it lists eastward in international politics, it is also pragmatic, dependent on money from South Africa to maintain the airport [to refuel its airliners] and on the US and émigrés Cape Verdeans for aid. As we taxied, . In  President Bush would appoint the able and convivial Lou Sullivan as secretary of health and human services. . About , Cape Verdeans live in the US, chiefly around New Bedford, Massachusetts . Needing to replace crew members lost at sea, nineteenth-century whaling ship captains 238 chapter 21 Joe Hagin reported that the plane was being chased by a pack of dogs. GB met with President Aristides Pereira—a refueling stop classified as an official visit—and the rest of us were led into the un-air-conditioned restaurant for refreshments. Using my pidgin Portuguese, which is nasalized Spanish with a lot of “zh” sounds, I chatted with a young man who’s an appointed member of the island’s governing council. He told me that Cape Verde hasn’t had more than a sprinkle of rain in thirteen years, and sadly, the would-have-been rainy season ended last month. The US has a desalination project on Sal, and at the airport GB was greeted by a flag-waving contingent of American construction workers. Around : p.m. we all rose and went to the VIP lounge for GB’s departure statement, delivered alongside the Marxist foreign minister. Then came the hour-long flight to Dakar in Senegal, our first real landfall on the last populated continent we had yet to visit. Our nighttime introduction to this old exotic city was reminiscent of Saigon, with white French colonial buildings and villas, masses of trees, boulevards, and the lights of ships at anchor. Thursday, 11 November 1982 Today I arose at : and opened the curtain to see a calm ocean with a pale pink sheen. Two French warships slowly rounded Gorée Island, and as they entered port, a gunfire salute was sounded. I ate some croissants and brioche with strong black coffee and read of the VP’s visit to Senegal in Le Soleil. Then I came downstairs for a tour of Dakar with Jennifer and Thadd. We saw rich areas, poor areas, and baobab trees, proof that I really am back in Africa. The Senegalese we saw on the streets wore stylish clothing of all colors. Dakar, a city of one million, somehow lacks the crush of asphyxiating exhaust fumes and destitute humanity so typical of Third World capitals. Both Jennifer and I consider it one of the loveliest places we have ever seen, its natural and architectural beauty complemented by the graciousness of its people. We returned to the hotel with just enough time to wash before the next recruited sailors in Cape Verde, just downwind from New Bedford. A black American with a Portuguese surname and a Massachusetts accent almost certainly is a descendant of one of these sailors. . When I traveled “Cape to Cairo” in , I developed a fondness for the distinctive, triangular baobab, which legend says God uprooted and replanted upside down...

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