The Battle

The armies united stood on both sides of the Equator. The northern, in red shirts, armed with megaton bombs and nuclear serpertines, angry and ready to kill. In the south, the army of Poverty, in torn shirts, armed with spears and covered in tribal tattoos and scarifications.
On both sides stood the need. The whites, aware of the little quantity of petrol left to extract from mother Earth were bound and torn and ready to kill. The others, yellow and brown, defending their wells and their fields of tomatoes, their pinneaples, their cattle and their right to rule over their own countries. The bell rang, echoed over and over. The whites, in anger, pumped up with cocaine, threw their bombs and metha-drills. The southerners in response threw spears and stones of various sizes with a mighty anger.
"This is Armaggeddon" suddenly said the high speakers. The muezzin on a background of tom tom drums and african yells responded: "This is righteous, this is god's law, we are defending our holes"
It is night. The battle over the armies united on both sides to count their dead. 24 on both sides. The northerners take their GM made jeeps and retire home. The southerners on camel backs reach for their tent also to eat curry filled meat.
The battle tomorrow will rage again for our right to drive fancy cars, eat olives and oranges and for the general survival of the mightiest.
THIS IS A FIGHT FOR SURVIVAL.
Tomorrow again the two sides will rise in battlegrounds, ready to defend their right to live, to eat olives and to drive purple Chryslers at 100mph.
My name is Shuw-Man-Joo and I want to survive...also.
Amen.