Love in Africa

"Lord, you so well remember the story of Florence and Michael, don't you?" 
 
"I vividly still remember it till today." 
 
"At the time of the incident, Florence was 22, and Michael..." 
 
"Just turned 25, my son." 
 
"Yes, oh Lord. They sat under the village tree discussing their future. They remembered the times; this was back in the 1970s and 1980s. Thousands of white volunteers and aid workers had invaded Africa, gone to the villages with free condoms, free pills, and many pictures. 
 
Then the conversation started: 
 
'My darling let's talk about our upcoming marriage.' 
 
'We should make it the traditional way, my sweetheart,' said Michael filled with love for the woman soon to be his wife. 
 
'I think about our future, my darling. I mean the white people that came to our village told us not to have many children so that we can have a better life, even spoke to us of ending child pregnancy.' 
 
'Yes, they insisted to follow their advice with might.' 
 
'Sure. But when we are old or something along the way will happen to us and we can't work any longer and feed ourselves...what will happen?' asked Florence. 
 
'Which is true. The white man has more or less a good social and pension system, we here in Africa have nothing like that. Our only reliable social system is our children. And as one might die as a teenager, another will abandon us, one always finding it difficult to find a job and one only getting enough money to feed his family we will need 5-6 children.' 
 
'You mean the white man has lied to us?' asked Florence again. 
 
'Yes and no. He does not know us really.' 
 
'But why has he still not demanded from our African leaders the implementation of a social system in exchange for aid support?' did Florence continue to ask. 
 
'He wants to keep us under his feet.' 
 
'One day we will be so many more that all of us will stand on his feet and he will cry for help, my darling,' concluded Florence. 
 
"Yes, my son I remember. And its true...sadly." 
 
"Yes my Lord, very sad."