Chapter 563: Warm-Hearted
In the 19th century, information spread very slowly, so citizens of the Far Eastern Empire had a poor understanding of global politics. Many couldn't tell the difference between England, France, Germany, and the like.
For most, knowledge of world powers came from hearsay. Foreign nations were all grouped together: Westerners were simply "Westerners," while in the East, Japan represented the "Easterners." Because of historical context, Japan also had unique nicknames in the Far Eastern Empire—like Waguo or Fusang.
Far Eastern laborers hired by East Africa couldn't distinguish these countries, so they followed the East African military's lead and referred to Japanese people as "little devils."
The term "devil" was used for any invading power. There were "Western devils," "British devils," "French devils"—but only Japan earned the specific label of "little devils."
At the time, translation conventions were messy. Under Ernst's influence, East Africa established a standardized translation glossary for diplomatic use.
The laborers on the Southern Ryukyu Islands rarely had time to discuss "state affairs," but lunchtime offered an exception.
Due to labor shortages, East Africa treated its Far Eastern workers relatively well—allowing them to share meals with soldiers.
The cafeteria system was a hallmark of East Africa's state structure—immigrant cafeterias, government cafeterias, school cafeterias, military cafeterias...
After East Africa's military took over the Southern Ryukyus, this tradition continued. Facilities were basic, though. The military cafeteria on Miyako Island was built by demolishing houses and rebuilding with bricks and mortar. It could feed 500 people at once, using simple wooden tables.
The islands' buildings were traditionally wooden—resistant to earthquakes and easy to construct. East Africa rebuilt using bricks for better fire protection and durability, sacrificing earthquake resilience.
Earthquakes were common, but East Africa considered warfare the greater risk.
"Today you're in luck! Because of your hard work, Governor Lukar ordered a special reward—military canned rations! Beef and potatoes, braised pork—normally reserved for troops only," said Squad Leader André, formerly known as Wang Dage.
André wasn't an unusual nickname—he used to be Wang Sanjin and had served in East Africa's military for seven years. Now stationed in the Far East, he had nearly forgotten how to speak Chinese until bonding with other Far Eastern laborers.
"Wang Dage, those rations must be rare, right? I've seen you guys hoard them. Only when supplies run low do they come out," asked Dazhuang.
"Oh, canned rations? They're just emergency food—nothing special. Easy to store. We've got tons in the army. Not rare at all. They get boring fast, honestly. If Japan hadn't caused problems, we'd still be cooking fresh meals," André said.
To the workers, this sounded like humble-bragging. Canned goods were expensive and rarely seen—only stockpiled in the Southern Ryukyus for emergencies.
"Wow, this tastes great! Meat, fat, and even salt—very filling. You soldiers have it good!"
"Heh, of course. Just look at this uniform. Soldiers in East Africa enjoy great honor and great meals. You guys used to fight for scraps. We get fine rice, noodles, even fruit. Life's good," André boasted, sparking envy all around.
"Wang Dage, if you ever make general, that'd be incredible!" Dazhuang flattered.
"Stop that! I'm just a squad leader—tiny position, just over a few dozen men. Don't call me general! Only the governor here is a major general. You'll get me in trouble. Just call me Officer André."
"Wang Dage, how'd you get to be an officer in a Western army? You've got Westerners under you!"
André chuckled. "Simple. I performed well. You call me Dage, so I'll take care of you too. But don't talk about 'Westerners' in front of others—bad word in the Far East. Many East Africans are from here. Mind your tongue."
"So all you guys who went to East Africa are citizens now?"
"Pretty much. Think of nationality like a family record. It tells which country you belong to. I have East African citizenship—I'm East African. You're still Far Eastern. By ethnicity, I'm now German; you're Han Chinese."
"Wait, you become German just by going to East Africa? And they trust you with command?"
"Of course! How else could I be a squad leader? In East Africa, everyone is equal—well, except Black people."
"Wang Dage, what's a Black person? Just someone really dark?"
"Haha! You've never seen them, huh? But yes—jet black, like charcoal. Only their teeth show in the dark. Imagine living coal—that's their skin color," André explained proudly.
"Really? That black?"
"Sure! And what about white people? Blond hair, blue eyes—you've seen that. The world is full of strange folks. Along East Africa's coast, you'll see Arabs wrapped in white robes. South Asians are brown, like they didn't wash properly…"
André told stories like a traveling bard—tales of distant lands and exotic people. In his words, East Africa became a paradise.
"If you'd gone to East Africa back then, you could've made something of yourselves. It's not too late. Though becoming a citizen is harder now, if you work well here, I'll write you a recommendation. You can live the good life too."
André had a kind heart—but he wasn't reckless. He reminded his fellow countrymen to perform well, so he'd have reason to vouch for them.
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