[b]Buganda, Uganda[/b]

A dry sun loomed over head, shining off the expansive waters of Lake Victoria as riders in the back of a rusty twenty year old pick up truck road along in its bed. The dry dusty wind buffeted past their face as the vehicle merged gracefully in and out and through the traffic along the road. The road was one of a view paved roads in the whole of the country. But the dusty 

Cutting through hamlets and open fields the truck kept moving. Shacks built up from plywood and corrugated steel sat alongside bungalows of white plaster and red shingles. Expansive fields stretched out to towering dry trees. All along the edge foot traffic and animal traffic moved along at their own pace, independent of the driving speed of the automobiles that lazed along the road.

“I can't say I'm surprised on the intelligence on this chap.” John said over the open air whipping past them as they rode Taxi, Uganda style. The flaked black coating of the truck bed was heating up something painful, even with the air rushing over to cool it. The man shifted constantly as the bumps shot up through his ass. A wide brimmed and torn cowboy had flapped in the wind atop his face in a vein attempt to guard against the harsh equatorial sun.

“He got plendy'a investigadive reports.” Emmanuel shouted back. A tired baseball hat crowned the dark-skinned Haitian. Wrapped down the back of his wide ovular head a rag protected the back of his neck. “Charges for goun posession. Charges on religioous violence. He a real characder. Buo'd none of id made it do court, mon.”

“What 'appened to all of that?” John asked. A semi trailer carrying bales of hat wrapped in linked chains of bungee rushed by alongside them. A trail of grass whipped through the air and danced to the bed of the truck before being re-captured and whipped high and away.

“Look like id wos all dropped in dh' courts. D' investigative reports gid up dere and de shood'em down.”

“Bloody 'ell, ya think they got someone' in the courts?”

“Probably.”

The truck jostled, bringing the two's attention up as they rose up over the surrounding terrain. Along their side Lake Victoria shone like a bright turquoise jewel as they rose up over the Katonga river. Inundated with early-summer rains, the tributary was a sword of muddy brown across the swollen green, swampy shores of Lake Victoria. The river shimmered as it flowed into the Lake through its wide mouth, one of many uncountable water ways that entered into the great African lake.

The bridge rose over the water and the swampy weeds and clumps of resilient green life whose roots dug deep into the mucky riverbed under them. Also lost in the overgrowth was the forgotten ruins of the old bridge that has cut over the inundated river below. The original bridge having been lost in the war by the parties the agents hunted had only highlighted the compromised condition of the water way. Earthquakes in the years preceding the war had softened the soil, and rose Lake George enough that the water from it often flowed faster and heavier.

Its destruction was inevitable, whether it was to sever advances from the south or a wash out of spring and summer rains. But as the war cooled, a new bridge was erected over the old. Rising to show the Great Lake in its full glory, and all the countryside before dipping down.

“We'll be getting' close”. Emmanuel said, “We ready?”

“As I ever been.” John smiled, “So what's the plan?”

“I'm dh' only black brothe' dhey'll likely led in to dere' group.” Emmanuel laughed, “We'll need t' drop you off somewhere outside.”

“I can deal with that.” John smiled, “If any blokes ask me what I'm doing, I guess I can get off saying I'm studying birds.”

“Dhen you god your equipment?”

“Yeah, give me a call when you're in.”