Word: simba
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...Lake. The final disaster came this month, when three drunken Simbas began brawling in Cairo's residential Zamalek district. Before the battle ended, two of them had been shot dead. The surviving Simba resisted arrest on the grounds that "I am a general." That was too much for even Nasser, whose security police had been urging him for months to get rid of the troublesome Congolese. He ordered remaining Simbas rounded up, then packed them aboard a government airliner and shipped them out of Egypt. When last seen, they were headed for Kigoma, the Tanzanian railhead on Lake Tanganyika...
Their destination was hardly good news for Premier Moise Tshombe, who was busy in Leopoldville preparing for the opening this week of the first Congolese parliament to meet in two years. Although Tshombe had managed to put down the bloody Simba rebellion and hold elections throughout most of the Congo, there was still a large rebel pocket in the mountainous area of the eastern Congo around Fizi, just across the lake from Kigoma...
...from Buta, Hoare's men ran into three Portuguese hostages-all impaled on spears. Nine other Europeans lay dead or dying along the road. When the columns rolled into Buta, the rebels had already fled and only eleven survivors were anywhere to be found. Two nights earlier, the Simbas had thrown 31 Belgian and Dutch priests to the crocodiles. Militarily, the operation was a success: Hoare lost only four men in wiping out the last large pocket of Simba territory. But in all, it had cost the lives of at least 52 hostages, and 42 others had vanished with...
...highly important for any Western reader who wants to understand the emotional force behind that revolution. But the readers of the work who really matter are the would-be leaders in the jungles and mountains of Africa and Asia. Its ideas have already found bloody reality in the Simba massacres in the Congo, in the shouts of Indonesia's Sukarno against "neocolonialism," and in Red China's rallying call to the Afro-Asian nations to turn their backs on the West...
Funny Hair. Rudi is content right where he is. He likes London, partly because "nobody laughs at my hair." (They laughed at it in Stuttgart, especially when he turned up at rehearsals one day wearing curlers.) His favorite picture is a closeup of his head which looks like Simba the lion in repose. A restless creature, he roams the streets late at night looking like some shabby fugitive, in his black wrap-around leather coat and Dutch-boy cap. Three or four nights a week he drops in at a private, after-hours Soho club called the Ad Lib, where...