Joe harsh words toward his own people left Alexandra a bit stunned.
The young girl couldn't help but ask, "How many hours do they work a day? And how much are they paid?"
The contempt on Joe face quickly disappeared, replaced by respectful politeness as he replied, "Madam, these men work ten hours a day. Their monthly wage is fifteen US dollars, and we also provide them with three meals a day."
"Huh? That much work for so little money?" Alexandra blurted out, then quickly covered her mouth and looked at Martin with embarrassment.
Martin smiled, just about to explain, but Joe, who was sitting in the passenger seat, spoke on his behalf.
"Madam, that amount is not small. The situation here isn't the same as in the US. Fifteen dollars a month isn't just enough for them to support themselves—it's enough for them to feed their families too. In Guinea, fifteen US dollars is sufficient to support a family of five for an entire month. If the family's larger, then things might be a bit tighter."
"As for the ten-hour workday..." Joe chuckled. "You might not know this, but there's nothing here in the way of entertainment. If we don't put their energy to use with work, they'll get into all sorts of trouble—drunkenness and fighting are the mildest of it. There's also theft... and messing with women."
"I remember, back when I worked at another of Mr. Meyers' mines, I didn't have much experience yet. on one weekend, I gave the workers a day off as a gesture, under pressure from some humanitarian groups. That same day, a group of them ran ten kilometers to a nearby tribe and raped four women. Then they ran another ten kilometers back to the worksite. We only found out when the tribe's warriors, armed and furious, tracked them down to our site."
"Damn it, we almost started a war over that. We had no choice but to hand those six workers over to the tribal chief."
At that point, Joe suddenly stopped speaking.
Alexandra, curious, asked, "Then what happened? What became of those six workers? Were they punished?"
Joe gave an awkward laugh. "I'm sorry, miss. What happened next might not be appropriate for you to hear. That was my mistake. I shouldn't have brought it up."
But far from putting out Alexandra's curiosity, his words only made her more eager to know what happened next.
"It's all right, Joe. I'm not scared."
Joe didn't respond right away. Instead, he turned to look at Martin.
Martin smiled and said, "Go ahead and tell her. A pure little lamb like her has to learn someday what kind of world the wolves live in."
Joe nodded, then continued, "The six men were castrated."
Alexandra didn't seem shocked at all. "Isn't that just cutting them? What's the big deal?"
Then she added, "I've heard that in old Europe, some singers actually had themselves castrated on purpose to sing high notes."
Martin replied, "You're thinking of castrati. But they didn't do it willingly—at least, most of them didn't. Many were brainwashed by religious cults when they were still young boys. To preserve their high vocal range, those cult members would castrate them while they were still children. These so-called castrato singers often didn't even understand what the procedure meant."
Alexandra frowned. "Again with this kind of thing. But why not just have women sing instead?"
Martin explained, "Because of discrimination. Since the 4th century AD, the European Church had forbidden women from performing in churches or public spaces. At the time, church authorities—and really, European society at large—believed women were impure. Having a female voice in church was seen as a curse."
"Yet the church choir held an extremely important place in religious worship. Choirs led hymns, chants, and guided congregational worship. But because women were barred from speaking or singing, choirs and performances lacked the uniquely high vocal register that women naturally possess."
"At first, boys and male singers with falsetto voices were used to fill this role. But their sound was never quite the same—high notes were awkward and lacked fluidity. Then people discovered that certain countertenors from Spain could sing incredibly smooth and powerful high notes, sometimes even better than women. Eventually, scholars learned that these singers were actually castrati."
"That discovery sparked a massive trend. Once people heard how divine those high male voices could be, they couldn't bear the rough and forced sound of falsettos anymore. And so, as musical aesthetics evolved, an era of castrato singers rose in full glory—ushering in a golden age for them and a tragic one for male singers overall."
Martin gave a cold laugh. "I doubt men at the time ever imagined that such discrimination would one day come full circle to destroy their own. Humanity, in its own self-imposed ignorance and superstition, made victims of us all."
Alexandra, still not fully convinced, asked, "But why were castrato voices considered better than female ones? Is there any scientific basis for that?"
Martin cleared his throat. "Actually... yes, there is. In terms of breath control, female singers can usually hold a note for around 25 seconds. Male singers, however, can hold it for up to a minute. As for vocal range, most singers can span a little over two octaves, but a castrato could easily surpass three octaves, and their singing was filled with vibrato and ornamentation. So these castrato singers combined male lung capacity with a female-like vocal register—producing performances that were well beyond what ordinary people could achieve."
He added, "Have you seen the film Farinelli: Il Castrato? It tells the story of a castrato singer from that era. It's based on a true story. The main character was a real Italian castrato—Farinelli."
"They say Farinelli had an extraordinarily sweet voice from a young age. He could sing a high note for an entire minute without taking a breath, and hit 250 consecutive notes in a single breath. But to become such a historic figure wasn't easy—at age ten, he was betrayed by his own family."
"His older brother, Tritanzo, was a classical composer who adored his brother's voice. He feared that as Riccardo grew older, that divine sound would be lost."
"To preserve his brother's gift, Tritanzo went so far as to take cruel and irreversible action. When Riccardo fell ill at age ten, Tritanzo took advantage of the situation and had him castrated. Then he lied to everyone, claiming that Riccardo had been trampled by a horse, causing an accident that led to his condition."
"When he grew up, Riccardo unsurprisingly became a famous castrato and received great acclaim. But when he eventually discovered that it was his own brother who had orchestrated his fate, the two never reconciled."
"Agh... that's such a tragedy," Alexandra gasped, covering her mouth.
Martin continued, "In fact, someone like Riccardo, who got to sing for royalty, was considered extremely lucky. Most castrato singers never even made it halfway. They never became famous or glamorous stars. Worse yet, because of hormone imbalance from the procedure, they often developed unusual appearances and were ridiculed for life. Their existence was a grotesque and miserable one."
"They didn't sacrifice themselves for art. And they were rarely remembered or honored. They were simply the pitiful reflections of an ignorant, misguided era."
As Martin spoke to Alexandra, Joe quietly listened with a gentle smile, showing no sign of displeasure for having been interrupted.
Only after Martin and Alexandra had finished discussing the topic did he remember to return to Joe.
"Sorry, Joe, we interrupted you. Please, go ahead," Martin said.