te that Americans and other non-African-born
Negroes, educated in Europe and the Americas, return to Africa to help
in its struggles. We find positions for any such who are competent,
preferably doctors, educators, scientists and technicians, but also
competent mechanics, construction workers and so forth. We operate a
school in New York where we teach native languages and lingua franca
such as Swahili and Songhai, in preparation for going to Africa. We
raise our money largely from voluntary contributions, and largely from
American Negroes although we have also had government grants, donations
from foundations, and from individuals of other racial backgrounds. I
suppose that sums it up."

Isobel smiled at them, returned to her chair to applause, probably due
as much to her attractive appearance as her words.

Crawford said, "When we began this meeting we had an objection that it
be held at all. I wonder if we might hear from that gentleman next?"

The white haired, ramrod erect, man stood next to his chair, not
bothering to come to the head of the room. "You may indeed," he snapped.
"I am Bishop Manning of the United Negro Missionaries, an organization
attempting to accomplish the only truly important task that cries for
completion on this largely godless continent. Accomplish this, and all
else will fall into place."

Homer Crawford said, "I assume you refer to the conversion of the
populace."

"I do indeed. And the work others do is meaningless until that has been
accomplished. We are bringing religion to Africa, but not through white
missionaries who in the past lived _off_ the natives, but through Negro
missionaries who live _with_ them. I call upon all of you to give up
your present occupations and come to our assistance."

Elmer Allan's voice was sarcastic. "These people need less superstition,
not more."

The bishop spun on him. "I am not speaking of superstition, young man!"

Elmer Allen said. "All religions are superstitions, except one's own."

"And yours?" the Bishop barked.

"I'm an agnostic."

The bishop snorted his disgust and made his way to the door. There he
turned and had his last word. "All you do is meaningless. I pray you,
again, give it up and join in the Lord's work."

Homer Crawford nodded to him. "Thank you, Bishop Manning. I'm sure we
will all consider your words." When the older man was gone, he looked
out over the hall again. "Well, who is next?"

* * *