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28 Jan 2013

‘They are the Goba-Chops,’ the specialist says.


‘They are the what?’ I ask.


‘The Go-ba-Chops,’ he repeats more slowly for me.


‘And what is a Goba-Chop?’ I ask.


‘They are the ones who sell the produce in the market for the farmers,’ he says.


We are in a strategy session where all the employees have gathered in the Director’s office to review the organization’s mission and to think about how it migh...

22 Jan 2013

I am driving on United Nations Dr at the intersection with Center St when the two men on the motorbike overtake me. I can see that the driver wears a t-shirt and shorts and flip-flops that hang off his toes and dangle from the foot pegs. The man who rides pillion wears a green beret and a dark blue police uniform and the motorbike says ‘POLICE’ in stenciled letters across the tank. They pull ahead...

17 Jan 2013

On a Saturday morning we ride our motorbikes to lunch and then to the village where Lachlan and Nik live. They live in a quaint four-bedroom house on the grounds of a Swiss-funded, private school. The house belongs to the school, which is known locally as ‘Ma Ellen’s School’ and Nik is the school’s administrator. Lachlan is her advisor – mostly unsolicited, I imagine – and he also works for a loca...

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