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Abi enters a new world... As a slave.

We're providing an opportunity to meet every delegate to our reception to discuss opportunities in Xxxxxxx."

I left Damien out of sight and followed the Xxxxxxxian Trade Commissioner to the embassy's conference room. He appeared nervous and lacking self-confidence. His name tag said something different but let's call him Mr. Lubumble for convenience since his real name would serve to identify Damien. In addition to his insecurity, his appearance was mediocre with a slightly balding head, pot belly and a prominent West African tuches. One of my single girlfriends swears that the uglier the man, the bigger his shlong. I couldn't help wondering whether Lubumble had a m'wamba that was...

"Please come in to the conference room, Mrs. Halevy. These are my colleagues Mr. Kunene, Ms. Umfolosi and Mr. Okavango. We speak a number of languages in Xxxxxxx but English is our lingua franca. I apologize for this artifact of our colonial era but we will conduct our business in English."

Two men and a woman sat on one side of the long table clicking away on the very thin laptops in front of them. The men were very young and handsome but the woman really caught my attention. She was also young and pretty, extremely fashionably dressed but in a style that spoke of the African marketplace. I had never encountered clothing of that sort before.

"We have a limited amount of time. There is a brief audio-visual presentation and then we will entertain your questions."

My attention turned to the conference room. Despite the old-fashioned exterior of the mansion, Xxxxxxx had renovated the interior to modern d__cor and the latest technology. The conference room was no exception as the latest audiovisual equipment greeted me. One wall of the room was occupied by a huge high-def screen with a video about to roll. Another wall was decorated with a giant map of Xxxxxxx. In the North of the country, someone had outlined a large area with a highlighter pen. I assumed that area was of some concern to Mr. Lubumble and his cohorts. I wasn't to be disappointed as Mr. Lubumble opened a file and cleared his throat.

"The Government of Xxxxxxx is soliciting proposals for the development of its abundant unobtanium deposits now that the rebellion in the north has been suppressed. Buggered Hill Pty. has already submitted an interesting proposal to our embassy in Canberra. I expect the Chinese and Americans will also be submitting bids to our embassies in Beijing and Washington. We now wish to hear from Canadian companies. Shall we start the video presentation?"

Without thinking, I replied: "Nerdstorm Canada Inc. doesn't mine unobtanium. We're a subsidiary of Nerdstorm International in the process of opening a series of stores across Canada to retail fine women's clothing."

Lubumble looked puzzled at my answer. "If you're not interested in unobtanium, Mrs. Halevy, perhaps you can tell me why Ambassador Damien invited you to this reception at the last minute?"

Uh-oh. I stepped into this one. Inadvertently, I ended up in a position where I had to defend both Damien and myself. The elegantly clothed Ms Umfolosi seated across the desk caught my eye. That was my answer:

"Mr. Lubumble, Xxxxxxx has far more to offer the world than a few rocks in a remote area of your country. My company has an interest in the clothing worn by the women of Xxxxxxx. We would like to work with your designers and manufacturers to introduce Xxxxxxxian fashions such as worn by Ms Umfolosi. In Canada, we would call her clothes 'wearable art'. As the fashion buyer for Nerdstorm Canada, I would like to feature a line of clothes from Xxxxxxx next summer. Also, from what I have read about Xxxxxxx, your artists and craftsmen produce exquisite objets d'art. Have you spoken to the art dealers who have been invited in order to market their work to the Canadian public?"

I know I was acting like Lubumble's Jewish mother, telling the Trade Commissioner how to do his job but you know how it is.

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