3-8-05

Dearest Aunt,

I am here in the darkest end of the world, witnessing death all around me. You may believe the imperialism going on here is “noble,” but I am here to tell you that it is the exact opposite. The climate is awful here, mosquitoes feast on your blood, and any civilized food is scarce. The savages here in the Outer Station are infested with disease and death. They crawl away into the bushes to die and they die by the dozens. While the savages die, our imperialistic emissaries blast away into the cliff side, further interrupting any peace there is. This whole place is very nightmarish and reminiscent of catacombs.

We force these savages to work all day in an attempt to civilize them into serving us. Once they do our work, we discard them into a grove that reeks of death, where mud rots and water turns into slime. Nevertheless, the problem is in the fact that many of these savages are quite young. They are dejected and die slow, painful, horrific deaths, digging their fingers into the earth. Pestilence consumes them and their bones sink back into the mud. All the while, your “noble” imperialists enjoy watching the work be done from the comfort of their buildings. One of these imperialists is a man named Kurtz. It is rumored that he lives in the Inner Station. I do not know much of him yet, but he is apparently a thing of wonders, since the Company’s chief accountant cannot stop talking about him. However, I believe that there may be more to Kurtz than meets the eye. Based on the amount of ivory that he sends here, it seems that he is an incredible businessman, but I am not entirely sure of his motives. Something tells me that he might be suppressing the natives into doing his will. That is quite common among these imperialists. They feel that they need to be viewed as gods to the natives. In doing this, the natives will cater to the every whim of the imperial forces, even in it spells death for their own kind.

Everything here is disturbing: savages chained together for work, dark groves of dying and decaying workers, explosions that rock the whole jungle. All of this is for a few pieces of ivory that come from the Inner Station down the river. Please tell me, Aunt, is all of this really worth the “noble cause”?

Should we as imperialists of Africa really try to change these people? I remember that you told me that we whites should “wean those ignorant millions from their horrid ways” (Conrad 28), but is that really the path towards a better world? Considering that these natives have been here long before we ever arrived, do they really need our help? I am here in the Outer Station viewing this “noble” work with my own eyes and it is not what you think. Imperialism is grim, ugly, and full of hatred. It turns some of the best men into maniacal monsters and it destroys the culture that these natives have established. I have seen the by-products of imperialism: dozens of slave bodies littering the roadside, the majority of them having been brutally murdered. How can this be correct?

Not only do the savages die by the handful, but our own men are also dying of these tropical jungle fevers every day. It is most dreadful being out here in this dense, dark, primordial jungle. The beating sound of drums in the distance can be very unnerving, along with the fact that there are death and destruction all around. All of this really makes me question the reason why I am here. Perhaps it is good that I see the effects of imperialism with my own eyes so that I am not blind to what really happens. That is my primary reason for writing to you before I venture out to the Central Station. I wanted to relay the injustices I have observed so that you will have a true understanding of the ugliness of imperialism. With any luck, once you read this letter, you will understand my objections to this entire situation here in the Congo.

This journey into Africa was not what I expected it to be. Africa has always been an incredible mystery to me, since so many places on the map of Africa are blank. My sole purpose for even coming here was to get a job, but now that I am here, I wonder if it will be worth the trouble just to get a steamer. Nonetheless, I am excited about continuing my journey up river to find this Kurtz character, and perhaps I will learn something valuable from him.

I pray that you are in good health and still every bit as excellent as I remember.

Sincerely yours,

Charlie Marlow