Chapter 516: Patriotic Education
"You've done well. Successfully provoking early conflict between Britain and Afghanistan is to our advantage. Everyone who contributed to this mission will be rewarded according to our merit-based system. And personally, I'll be adding a little bonus."
Ernst commended the agents behind the Afghanistan operation at Kiweete Palace, and the recognition—as well as the promised rewards—left everyone quite pleased.
"Keep up the good work. But don't let it go to your head. Review the operation carefully and learn from any oversights—we need to build up solid experience for the future."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
After the commendation ceremony, Ernst turned his attention back to East Africa's massive hydraulic infrastructure project. It was a nationwide effort involving millions, and mistakes had to be avoided at all costs.
At this point, Ernst was fully tied down by the project. He wouldn't be able to break away until it was running smoothly.
…
Mbeya City.
February in Mbeya was crisp and dry. Under school supervision, students from Mbeya Secondary School No. 2 were participating in a regular practical studies program.
But instead of sitting in a classroom, they were working on a government-run farm as part of a labor education initiative.
Class 4 of Grade 3, led by their homeroom teacher Yalk, had been assigned lodging in the workers' dormitory of the Third National Farm in Mbeya.
After settling the accommodations, Yalk addressed the students: "For this week's practical course, you'll be guided by Mr. Kaide, who has years of farming experience. He'll teach you the key skills involved in cultivation. Make sure you learn seriously…"
As soon as Yalk finished speaking, the students applauded to welcome Kaide, the man in charge of the farm.
Kaide, unfazed by the group of teenagers, confidently stepped forward and introduced himself: "I'm the head of the Third National Farm. I'm glad to work with young people like you. This isn't my first time hosting students from No. 2 Secondary School—I get a group every year. So relax. If you have questions, feel free to ask."
Every class has a few troublemakers, and Class 4 was no exception. As soon as Kaide finished, someone piped up to the teacher:
"Teacher, do we really need to learn farming? We already know how. We help out at home all the time."
"Rolde," the teacher replied, "this is a national program organized by the school and coordinated with the government. It's part of every technical school's curriculum. Just because you've done farm work doesn't mean you're excused. The goal here is to learn the value of hard work, to experience it for yourself, and to grow from it."
Technical schools in East Africa focused on developing practical skills, while academic-track schools emphasized cultural education. But even the latter couldn't avoid hands-on courses—they just had fewer opportunities.
Kaide chimed in: "That's right. Another goal is to expose you to new experiences. Our Third National Farm is a government enterprise with substantial investment. We represent the most advanced production methods—this is a chance to broaden your horizons."
As a state-owned farm, the Third National Farm enjoyed far more funding than private ones, nearly on par with Western standards. It incorporated advanced techniques and modern management.
Of course, East Africa's farms still had their backward aspects—mainly the widespread use of Black slave labor, which remained difficult to phase out. For tasks like cotton harvesting, using slaves was still considered most efficient.
After speaking, Kaide led the class on a tour. The sheer scale of the operation was impressive—not only were they growing multiple types of crops, but the site also included a livestock range and processing workshops. It was practically a medieval estate straight out of Europe.
Many Black laborers worked the land. As the main group being exploited in East Africa, their conditions were harsh. But for the local youth—raised in this system—the use of slaves was normalized. They barely gave it a second thought.
Just the year before, Mbeya had rolled out a livestock-for-labor substitution policy that replaced slave workers on small and medium farms. But large-scale farms and mines still relied heavily on slave labor.
Pointing toward a group of Black slaves at work, Kaide said: "Your fathers lived in desperate conditions before coming to East Africa. I was one of them. This world is harsh—I'm not saying East Africa is the best place, but it's better than most. If our country ever falls, people like them will be your future. That's why you must devote yourselves to East Africa."
Kaide's words were harsh, and the slaves' plight certainly tragic. But for the teenagers watching, the message lacked shock value. They'd grown up surrounded by slavery—it was part of their world. Many accepted it as normal.
Still, the sight planted a seed in their minds: the weak will always suffer. If East Africa were ever defeated, they could become slaves too.
That's the essence of Ernst's thinking. Even exploiters aren't immune—only the bottom tier truly gets crushed. Those who get co-opted into the system might still get exploited, but at least they can exploit others below them.
This was the structure of all human societies: a pyramid. In East Africa, the top was the Hechingen royal family, followed by the aristocracy and bureaucrats, then ordinary citizens—and finally, Black slaves.
The laborers in the fields didn't even realize they were being used as props for a lesson in nationalism. They worked on in numb silence. But perhaps that was a mercy. After all, greater awareness only brings greater misery.
Drop a 21st-century person into slavery and they'd likely break. But for these people, East Africa offered stability—and a life marginally better than the chaos they came from.
Their only true hardship was the denial of basic physical needs. East Africa's policy of curbing Black population growth had caused an extreme gender imbalance. In the east and center, there were virtually no Black women left. Only the west and south had a few.
But this too could be endured. East Africa only needed two or three generations of their youth. Afterward, they'd be shipped off to the "free" United States. What they did there wasn't East Africa's concern—America had abolished slavery in name, after all.
For now, East Africa needed their labor. Without it, Ernst's grand engineering projects would fall apart. He might end up like Latin America—brimming with ambition but short on muscle.
This "patriotic education" class was simple and brutal: show students the life of the oppressed to teach them what they must never become.
Did it work? Absolutely. As native-born East Africans, the new generation had absorbed the message. Their fathers had taken this land from the Blacks—so of course they would defend it.
As for Ernst—the man behind it all—he felt no guilt. If it wasn't him, it would have been some other European colonizer. Better to bear the villain's burden himself. And while he wasn't a good man, he at least had a bottom line—he wouldn't resort to indiscriminate slaughter.
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