Half an hour later, the three of them met in the dining hall.

Due to the recent accident, the atmosphere in the dining hall was somber. Most people ate in silence or exchanged whispers, and the usual friendly greetings between colleagues had given way to polite nods.

After collecting their meals, Harris led Deng Shiyang and Semler to a table in a corner, away from the others.

Once seated, Semler kept his head down, staring at his meal without speaking. His tray held only a corporate sandwich and a cup of coffee, which looked modest compared to the varied meals of both Deng Shiyang and Harris.

Noticing the uneasy look on Semler’s face, Deng Shiyang seemed to understand. As he poured dressing made of olive oil and herb vinegar over a bowl of salad and stirred it, he said: “Since the accident has already happened, it’s more practical to focus on handling the aftermath than wasting time on assigning blame.” He glanced at Harris for support.

“Exactly,” Harris chimed in immediately. “Mr. Deylek is honorable and responsible; he won’t shift the blame onto his subordinates.”

The blatant compliment made Deng Shiyang feel slightly uncomfortable, but he turned to Semler and said, “I’d like to hear your thoughts on this training incident.” He paused, then added, “Don’t waste time on meaningless self-recrimination—I need constructive feedback.”

Semler raised his head and looked at Deng Shiyang. “The accident has happened, and the black soldiers will likely use this as an excuse to stir up trouble or strike.”

“I’m aware of that,” Deng Shiyang nodded. “My goal is simple: get them back to work as soon as possible. As for the training, you can modify some parts of the stress training, but next week’s combat skills training must go ahead as scheduled.” He paused and asked, “You’ve worked with black soldiers more than I have. Have you ever dealt with a situation like this before?”

“Do you mean training accidents or strikes?” Semler replied: “The soldiers I trained in Angola and Congo never reached this point.” He hesitated, then explained, “I only taught them combat skills, not such dangerous training.”

“What about strikes? Have you experienced those?”

“No,” Semler shook his head. “I was only responsible for training. Other matters were handled by others.”

Seeing that Semler had little useful information, Deng Shiyang said, “Join me for a video meeting with Durban tonight.”

At the evening meeting, Deng Shiyang briefed the team in Durban about the training accident. He glossed over the details of the incident and did not mention assigning blame, which seemed to reassure Semler.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“Relax,” Du Preez was the first to speak, half-reassuringly. “In local factories here, black workers strike at least once a year. This is a common tactic. They find an excuse to stop working, stir things up for a while, and once they’ve drawn enough attention, they send representatives to negotiate with management.”

“Negotiate what?” Semler asked eagerly.

“What else? Money, of course,” Du Preez said with a hint of disbelief. “You’ve been in South Africa for years and didn’t know?”

“Uh—” The German was momentarily speechless and looked down uncomfortably.

“I don’t know how it is in Angola, but in South Africa,” Du Preez continued, “they’ll bring up human rights, safety, religious freedom—a whole list of issues. Once they’ve gone around in circles, they get to the point—money.”

“Is that all?” Deng Shiyang found it hard to believe. “Their only goal is a pay raise?”

“It may be hard for you to understand if you’re not familiar with African culture, but that’s the reality.” Du Preez said. “Their main purpose is always money, everything else is just an excuse.” He paused before adding, “Of course,only speaking my experience at South Africa. I’m not sure about Angolans, but in my experience, they don’t have the nerve to cause serious trouble or damage—they’ll just make a show of it to pressure management into better pay.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“You’ll see tomorrow. If they’re eager to negotiate, it’s just about money,” Du Preez said confidently. “By the way, strikes by black workers can be quite a spectacle.”

The next morning, Deng Shiyang witnessed it firsthand.

Hundreds of black men gathered noisily in front of the office building. Whether due to the presence of security guards or the imposing black German Shepherds they had on leashes, the crowd did not dare to storm the building. Instead, they stood in the open area, chanting slogans in a chaotic mix of voices.

After a brief standoff, several older men stepped forward, making impassioned speeches in an unfamiliar dialect, using hand gestures for emphasis. The rest of the crowd cheered, then moved back in an orderly fashion to clear a space and began singing and dancing with various props.

Just as Du Preez had said, the strike was highly theatrical. It was less a strike and more a uniquely African performance.

There was no doubt that musical talent came naturally to the Africans. They needed no instruments, no rehearsals—just a few overturned buckets for drumming and synchronized clapping and stomping to create a perfect rhythm, accompanied by chanted lyrics to form a song. Another dozen men holding mops and plastic basins danced as if performing street theater.

The dance told a story of tribal warfare. The raised mops symbolized spears, and the plastic basins represented shields. Dancers holding red “shields” fought against those with blue ones in a prolonged, arduous battle, ending with victory and celebration.

“Unbelievable. These guys didn’t even rehearse,” Deng Shiyang said, holding a cup of coffee as he watched from behind the office’s blinds. He remarked wryly, “If they applied this kind of talent to war, they’d have colonized Europe centuries ago.”

The lively strike continued until noon, when the crowd dispersed for lunch at precisely 12:00.

“They’ll start up again after they’ve eaten,” Harris said to Deng Shiyang. “They’ve already sent word through my men that they want us to send representatives to negotiate. What do you think we should do?”

“Since they’re not willing to escalate things, we’ll delay,” Deng Shiyang replied. “I need to write the accident report this afternoon. Let’s keep them waiting until tomorrow.”