I'm former president of Republica do Tropico, with capital at San Fernando, elected as Socialist, baing hardworking and diplomat, yet ugly and alchocholic.
I became president in 1950. In April 1951, doctor Ramirez came to my island and become the very successfull in his clinic because I kept an eye on him due to his unhappiness.
So, in favor of him, I built him a house (by bulldozing his shack), I built him pub, I build him immigration office so he could chose his colleague in clinic.
Knowing he likes goat milk very much, I built him a cattle ranch.
In measly 4 years, San Fernando flourished due to my care for dr. Ramirez.
Unfortunately, in time third tobacco harvest was waiting in harbour to be shipped abroad, hurricane came.
It was 7th of june 1955.
After hurricane, dr Ramirez died, and all I've had left was palace, diplomatic ministry and foreign office.
Despite rich foreign help (10000U$) I had to resign.
Sob.
It was so nice island on its way to economic powerhouse... there'll never be another one in my life.
Yet, it's nice to work on a corn farm. People are so nice to me...
