I write on the the day Ya, known to our people as the Birthday of Earth, although the Earth has now died. We remember this place, for it has always been ours, the land of the Warrior Kings, sacred Ghana. In the past outsiders come, but our ways endure, as they did in the times of our forefathers. My name is Yaw, for I was born on this day, to the leader of our village. This is our history. My history.

~

The Season of the Yam Festival, September 17th, 2077 in the outsider way.
We have many reasons to be happy, for the fields of our village swell with precious yams. The glistening waters of Lake Volta have been good to us also, for we have caught many fish too. We feast, and sing, and laugh, and dance. Father disapproves of frivolity. He says we must be strong against the challenges that face us. It is almost as if he knows something, something he does no wish to share with the rest of us. It is his right, and I respect it.

September 21st, 2077.
Today we send Okw?n into Accra with the tiaseɛnam...car. He goes to talk to the government about supplying electricity for our village. I do not care about these things. We get by as we always have, although in these times we are in the minority. Most other villages have wires that come from the ground, it supplies them with light and other things. What is wrong with torches? He tells me he will also bring back some rifles for hunting...and for keeping animals of all kinds at bay.

September 27th, 2077.
Change is in the wind, bringing with it an acrid smell and the noses of foreigners. Kwame was digging in one of the new fields today, when his spade stuck through something. When he brought it up the tip was jet black and dripping. Oil. The wells of Nigeria have run dry, but the Americans and the French do not give up, turning West Africa upside down in their search for this lifeblood. We once again send Okw?n into the capital to see what money the foreigners are willing to pay for it. This could make us very rich, or destroy us completely.

Well, it's kind of akward to read and I don't really get the story. And it's also pretty short, so you better look at that.

There's no BoS, no Vault 101, nor will there be - don't look for your typical Fallout ff. This is about what happened elsewhere.

The story will progress at its own pace.

I'm interested to see where this is going. I will definetly keep reading.

September 27th, 2077.
Okw?n is back from the capital, bringing with him an American businessman. The British and French are apparently too busy and wrapped up in their own affairs to maintain any presence in Ghana. Since I speak the best English out of the people in the village, I will have to work out the deal.

September 27th, 2077.
The American works for a company called 'Poseidon Oil'. He tells me that they own the only working oil rig in the Pacific, and that their company has the express support of the American government.

September 27th, 2077.
I have shown the American the spring of oil. A wide grin spread over his face as he surveyed the viscous black liquid. He is willing to offer us a 'great deal' of United States dollars, in cash, for our 'continued co-operation'. Right now he is on his satellite phone, talking to people in the capital. He is trying to accelerate plans by our government to provide power to the village. The Americans have a lot of pull with our president, so we should be with electricity very soon.

September 28th, 2077.
The American is now a guest of our village. He requested an audience with my father, so I went to act as a translator. To start taking the oil from the ground much work needs to be done. My father, wisely, did not consent to signing away our land to outsiders, for bitter experiences in the past have taught us better. He did agree to allow the company the 'right to drill', as well as the right to move their machines through our village. Putting his seal upon a document, the American informed us that the next step would take place as soon as the village had power.

Interesting and well written. I am looking forward to future developments.

Fascinating...We never really got to see what happened to civilization at the edge of the modern world. I also find it interesting that you have included oil in the story. I find it sad how oil companies really do exploit local villagers for their oil.

October 1st, 2077.
M?anu is going into labour. It has been a difficult pregnancy, and I fear for her health upon delivery. I have faith in our women and our healer in making the birth as painless as possible.

October 2nd, 2077.
M?anu is still in labour. The American is constantly on his telephone, to Accra and to America. The powerlines will be installed within the week, according to him. He is constantly talking to a 'Mr. Dunwich' back in his homeland, talking about how best to gauge the depth of the oil reserves, types of soil and rock, drilling bits and other specifics of the coming drilling operation. We perhaps need to remind him that it is not his company that have lived in this land since the great-grandfathers of our great-grandfathers came here from the south so many years ago.

October 3rd, 2077.
We give thanks, for after a difficult and painful delivery M?anu has given birth to twins. She is resting with the women, whilst we initiate the naming ceremony. My father maintains his stoic look, but I think I see a glimmer of a smile as he looks upon his grandchildren. I now have one daughter, Kakira, and one son, Payin. The women washed them and clothed them in swaddling clothes, they look the very picture of perfection, a divine gift. Once I pass I will be glad that these two wonders will carry on our traditions.

October 10th, 2077.
I have been too busy to note down the histories of the past week, for the duties of a father and the needs of a village make great demands on my time. The babies are in the care of the womenfolk as always, but when I can I spend all of my free time there, with their joyful but weak mother. To my surprise I feel as if I already know their inner selves well, for Kakira takes after her mother, happy and content to look at the sky, the clouds, the trees, reacting with glee at the cawing of birds. Payin takes after me in my youth, a restless, squirming bundle. The American is expecting a truck from Accra with initial equipment to help the extraction of the oil. He keeps quiet on the the matter of electricity, although solemnly promises that all manner of powered wonders will be supplied 'imminently'.

Apologies for the delay - back to the scheduled program!

October 15th, 2077.
Wires under the ground, all the way from Accra, have been laid. Emerging at the fringe of the village, the American promise a 'revolution' in our way of life. He also promises it will be for the better. If he speaks lies, I will have him run out of the village. This oil business is having an impact on us all, for the more time I spend away from my family the more miserable I become.

October 18th, 2077.
Trucks from the capital have brought all manner of electrical devices. We hang the lights around our homes, turned on by a single switch. A slow rumbling to the south is heard, apparently the massive vehicle needed to start drilling and see how much oil lies beneath our land.

October 19th, 2077.
The great monstrosity has arrived, a huge vehicle carrying a drill through its centre. The racket it makes is intolerable, making the children cry and scaring our cattle. I will speak with the American, Julius Autumn. If he thinks to use this machine at night he can think again. From deep in the forest I can hear the howls of the Roloways, terrified at the grinding of the Earth.

October 22nd, 2077.
Julius has kept to his word, the drilling is to take place only during the morning. He wears a perpetual grin, having discovered the depth of this new source of energy. More of his people will arrive soon. He is requesting that more permanent accommodation be built for any workers who arrive. Father will decide the matter.

October 23nd, 2077.
I was with the children outside, carrying Kakira. The afternoon sun sat low the sky, providing us light and heat as it always has. But from the south...I had my back to it. A flash of white light brighter than anything I could imagine. I turned to face it, as my instincts told me to. The flash of light was so bright as to be darkness, for it blinded my sight. Staggering in darkness, I sought shelter from the light in my home, struggling to keep hold of Kakira, my free hand waving to feel the mud-walls. I collapsed on the floor of my home, the light burning an black hole in my left eye, the eye that had seen the flash. My sense of sight robbed, this light to the south was to begin another assault on my person for a deafening roar swept over our village, bringing strong winds which took off the roofs of some of our smaller homes. The sight is barely returned to my right eye, my back on fire, and all about darkness. I fumble for the light switch, but they do not work. The children do not stop crying. I don't know where Ma?nu is. All huddle in their homes like our terrified infants. Is this some divine wrath? Are these the end of times?

The bombs dropped Oct. 23, not the 22nd.

Er...typo!