Free Amriika by M. G. Vassanji

of the free.
    The big issue this spring was military research on campus. Could a university maintain its freedom and yet remain tied to directed research for the military? Did it befit a university’s free spirit to be involved in the design of weapons, in methods of destruction of human life and habitats, as was going on even now in Vietnam?
    On a Tuesday in April a large, noisy rally set off at noontime on Mass Ave to seek entry to and otherwise confront the Tech’s Lorentz Labs, which were actively involved in the development of weapons systems — MIRV missiles, helicopter gunships, and much else that maimed and killed. The rally was given a rousing send-offon the front steps of the Tech by none other than the resident genius, Peter Bowra, speaking from his wheelchair in his trademark hoarse voice, appearing fresh from another awe-inspiring lecture to the freshmen on the wonders of the universe that were matched only by the wonders of the human mind. And so, encouraged by this voice, the freshmen, radicals or not, tagged along behind the rally. The procession was met at the door by the director of the lab — the “Doc,” reputedly once a colleague of Bowra at Los Alamos, now an arch-enemy — flanked by an array of stout policemen. From there the demonstrators, chanting their slogans, went on to confront President Ronald McDonald and presented their demands for an end to military research on campus.
    This concern for humanity and peace, Ramji thought as he stood at the back of the crowd watching demonstrators haranguing the Doc, can it be real, is it sincere? Back in Dar we thought only of our small community; sometimes we prayed for peace in the world, but not convincingly. What did we know of the world? We could not think of all of humanity as these Americans do, with such immediacy, such urgent concern. But then we did not have the power to destroy the world, did we? Nevertheless, how liberating, how exhilarating, to think that one belonged to a larger world, cared about it, could make a difference to it!
    The Tech’s President McDonald finally yielded to protests, announcing a temporary moratorium on defence-related research. And the faculty, with Peter Bowra as their spokesman, voted overwhelmingly in support of a moratorium on MIRV .
    There
was
a different way to look at the world, and you didn’t have to be a kook or some screaming wild-haired freak to be a part of this new thinking.
    The year was drawing to a close, and to top it off on a high notebefore exams, Janis Joplin gave a scintillating concert in the armoury, ending with “Me and Bobby McGee” in that throaty voice that reverberated right up to Central Square. And as you emerged into the warm Saturday night stirred to the core you couldn’t help thinking of yourself as a
student
, a passionate species apart that would not compromise its values as the adults had done.

    Ginnie come lately …, the words of an old American song would come ridiculously to mind at odd moments. He was obsessed with her, dreaming of clandestine meetings in hotels, passionate encounters, steamy love scenes in back seats of cars; but nothing developed. As the weeks passed, she did not swoop in upon him, putting up at the Inn on Harvard Square or the Sonesta, as he imagined. At times he would be gripped by a wild fear — suppose she died suddenly, suppose the chemotherapy didn’t work? But on the phone she was lively, it was difficult to imagine her being sick. And, as always, she was solicitous of him. John would be with her then. One day he told her quickly, “You know, sometimes I think that whole Christmas week — that New Year’s — was imaginary.” He thought he detected a brief pause, before she laughed and blithely replied, “My dear, count on it — it was all real!” And his heart sank. Because together with the passion and desire, there was, simultaneously, a small wish in him to be done with it, this cowardly sin of adultery and hypocrisy. But he was