Staring at the Barrel of a Gun

*Vroom!*

A bounce in the road and I come floating off the moto for an instant only to slam back down an moment later provoking an uncomfortable bray from the hogtied goat resting confusedly in my lap. The peak of the dry season has transformed the once high grass, lush green landscape to a brown dust bowl--each passing car, overloaded with people, goods, and livestock precariously protruding from every open window; perilously perched on every available surface, they emit half kilometer long tails of dust that consume you eyes, nose and mouth as they pass bye. Like the castle from "Howle's Moving Castle," they remind me more of transportable homes than of vehicles of transport.

*Vroom!*

We clear the dust field of a passing vehicle, regaining our view of the road and my gendarme friend, Prosper, revs our moto's undersized Chinese engine, slowly coming back to the speed that will again send me bouncing off the seat with each bump in the road. We pass some villagers selling mangoes on the side of the, leaving them in a cloud of dust. "John, John! And the dust? It goes a little, no?" Prosper laughs over his shoulder, his voice almost drowned out by the moto's whining engine. Our progress down the red earth colored road is marked by our own peacock plume of dust. I can't help but feel like a little fly buzzing down the dry landscape. Bump.

*VROOM*

Another bump elicits another cry from the goat in my lap and the engine beneath me. I glance down at the animal with it tongue hanging out, wind ripping through its hair, a vacant but uncomfortable look in its eyes. Mwaahhhhhhh!!! That sound gave me nightmares when I first came to my village. The sound of a crying goat is disturbing similar to the sound of a human baby crying. I glance to my side where two roosters strapped to one side, two pentards another (a chicken like bird that I swear screams "Pourquoi? Pourquoi?") to the other flutter like a banners in the wind. In front of me is Prosper, in camouflage fatigues, a beret on his head and an AK-47 strapped over his back and my weekly ride to the closest village with electricity. Staring at the barrel of his gun, I wonder, how this scenario become normal?

More to come later. I apologize for my lack of updates. All is well!