I met with fools last night. To suggest the war is over is to sink one’s head deep into the sand. This civil war is alive and well and killing everyone in its wake. Throughout the night, I heard automatic weapons clacking in the streets. And this morning, I toured the surrounding neighbourhood. Within the first block I found a smouldering lorry with its tyres gone and bullet holes riddling the driver’s door. Several mercenaries wandered the streets, AK-47s casually slung over their shoulders. They saunter with such ownership it’s sickening. Foreigners setting the tone for all the Africans.
I spotted what I thought was a dead dog burned to a black mass. But as I got closer, the reality hit me like a sucker punch to the stomach. I was staring at a woman’s body. She had been burned alive. And last night no less. I grew furious with those stupid men at the café. They throw up blinkers and proclaim freedom on the march while their brothers and sisters are dying. I must find a new hotel.