The Foreign Service Journal, June 2005

gaudily gilt table. The young man in the middle, who wore the largest sunglasses, delivered his remarks with great gravity. Miles translated. “He welcomes us to the palace on behalf of the new government. These are the members of the Revolutionary People’s Salvation and Reconcilia- tion Committee. They are the new government, and Ambassador Broussard has already been here this morn- ing and offered his country’s recognition.” “Damn Jean-Luc, always Johnny-on-the-spot,” the ambassador muttered. Miles went on. “He hopes that we will also enjoy a productive relationship based on maturity, dignity and mutual respect.” The young man smiled and went on expansively. “And we can refer to him as Commander Karate Man.” The ambassador cleared his throat. “Okay, apprecia- tion for the welcome by Mr. Karate Gent. Here in peace, so an offering: icebreaker in a way.” Miles trans- lated as the ambassador opened his attaché case. “You’re going to break Lloyd’s heart,” he whispered to the ambassador when he saw the case’s contents. “This here,” the ambassador read from a cup holder. “Sal’s Bowlarama in Winnemucca — very rare.” He handed it to Commander Karate Man and pulled out another. “More in here — Miles, the honors, please.” “This one says, ‘Keep on Trucking.’” Miles passed it to one of the other soldiers. “This is ‘Hang Ten,’” he said, handing out a third. “Exaggerated bulbous fingers in the logo,” the ambassador pointed out. “A real clas- sic.” The soldiers stared at the empty cup holders. “Apologies,” the ambassador said. “More committee members than cup holders, apparently. Anyway, bottom line here: President Kotazo not a perfect ruler — no argument.” He gestured at a lamp in the shape of a nude woman lewdly carrying fruit on her head. “Appalling taste in furnishings, for example. Still and all, democra- tically elected. Will of the people.” Miles translated, and Commander Karate Man’s expression darkened. The other soldiers rolled their eyes and guffawed. The commander gestured for silence, then spoke with feeling. Miles whispered his translation to the ambassador. “The president was a bad man: he did not pay military salaries on time, he increased the country’s foreign debt, and his education policies did not promote the broad-based development of the country’s human resources. Also, the monkeys around the palace were his supernatural henchmen.” “Yes, well, arguably not the perfect Jeffersonian model statesman. Still, democracy on the march. Respect for public institutions essential. So back to the barracks.” Miles translated and the soldiers stared back in hostile silence. Commander Karate Man leaned across the table, jabbing his finger at the ambassador. “He says all the entrances to the country are closed and there is nobody here to make them leave and they want to know what you think you’ll do about it.” All eyes focused on the ambassador, anticipating a verb. The ambassador adjusted his glasses, fixing his hugely magnified pupils on the commander. There was a long silence before the ambassador retorted, with cryp- tic conviction: “Allemande Left!” B ack at the embassy, the country team huddled in the ambassador’s office. Lloyd clutched a wadded-up flyer for the cup holder show. A cannon boomed and Wally shuddered. Amb. Vodel paced the room, then declared: “Fast action in order, all we need right here!” “Afraid you lost me, sir,” Miles said. “Won’t get those boys out of the Presidential Palace without a real push.” “Exactly!” The ambassador stopped and clapped. “Sorry, sir, but seems to me the only thing those guys would understand is military force.” “Right!” The ambassador clapped again. There was a long silence. Ardela finally cleared her throat. “Sir, we have to make a big pitch just to get the regional defense attaché to visit. How likely is it that we’d get a military inter- vention here?” The ambassador shook his head. “No need for out- side help!” “Sir, nobody here at the embassy has even been in the military. Hard to see how we could make a credible threat on our own.” They all looked at the ambassador, who broke into a slight dancing motion. “Obvious, no? Unique assets here: Walter here an unknown face, access to their radio system and — serendipity itself — a square-dance caller among us. Just one question: Mr. Jitters up for action?” T he Landcruiser pulled up to the Presidential Palace just before midnight. Fires burned in oil drums at the entrance. A group of soldiers were throwing stones F O C U S 40 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U N E 2 0 0 5