August.
The sea wind blowing in from the southeast brought a torrential rain. It rained for three days straight, leaving the streets of the entire city wet and slick.
Especially in places without paved roads, the mud was unbearable. After walking through it, one's shoes would be caked in thick layers of mud.
After the rain cleared, the streets once again teemed with pedestrians, carts, and carriages weaving through one another in utter chaos. Such a sight was rarely seen in East Africa; perhaps only the developed districts of Dar es Salaam and Mombasa could compare.
That was because East African cities had dedicated police to maintain order. They had once been soldiers, but after the reforms, some of the troops stationed in cities had transferred into the police force.
Thus, order in East Africa was remarkably good, even in the countryside. Villages also had public-security personnel, and since the rural security personnel had not yet been reorganized, they had become a special presence.
The main reason was their small numbers. A village only had a few of them, and they fell under the jurisdiction of the township or the nearest city's Police Department.
Ships entered port as usual. A great many merchants and dockside gangs began scrambling for business. The merchants mainly received cargo, while the gangs were factions formed by dockworkers themselves, most of whom came from the same villages.
The docks were a bustling scene, but who could have imagined such flourishing prosperity here three years ago? Richard of the German Commercial Liaison Office thought as much.
When he had arrived three years earlier, this place had still been no more than a small town. Its population was sparse, its port facilities incomplete, and its buildings exceedingly "rustic"—many were mud houses with thatched roofs.
The only thing