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352 pages, Paperback
Published December 27, 2022
The plan was that Jonathan, Andrew, Cheery and I would leave for Burma early the following morning, while Anya and Abhra Bhattacharya, who had rejoined the team to help with logistics in Mizoram, stayed behind to hold the fort, handle our emergency communications with locals and deal with the Indian secret police, who it was now clear were indeed following us. It was now time for me to say goodbye to Anya. We had a sweet couple of hours chatting about the journey and our future plans, and then I gave her a letter I had written for my mum, just in case something terrible happened, and I slipped another little farewell card into her rucksack for her to find after I'd left.
I could see the building where snipers were firing through tiny holes knocked in the side. I went first, running across open ground with sniper fire close overhead, and then a strange sound off to one side. And there, under the archway, in the middle of the battle, a barber was calmly giving a soldier a wet shave with a Sweeny Todd cut-throat razor, while his stereo pumped out jaunty upbeat music. He must have had a very steady hand. As I came through his field of vision he turned to look at me, a cigarette danging from his mouth, and a wry smile spread across his face as he watched me running and diving for safety into the back of an armoured personnel carrier. It was a surreal moment, perfectly blending madness and noramlity.
But then so much of Somalia was a surreal and impossible place. It wasn't easy to sum it all up. The executive produced Sam Bagnall and I talked endlessly about the crazy challenge of trying to explain four decades of conflict and civil war, then attempted it with a piece of commentary in the final programme that could only last for 40 seconds of screen time. Such are the limitations of television.