18
Wishing for the onset of darkness.
Because the road to Dumkibas is
anything but serene. It’s a mountainous journey, the gravel road is narrow and
slick from recent rains. As we drive further into the wilderness, we’re forced
to pass black smoke-spitting buses painted in colorful, almost psychedelic
patterns. Passing them wouldn’t be so bad if the roads weren’t so narrow, the
visibility more than a few feet at most. Pulling out into the lane that supports
oncoming traffic, all you can do is hold your breath and pray another bus or
truck isn’t presently coming at you from the opposite direction.
We drive through small towns made
up of little more than shanties of scrap wood and tin. The structures are built
onto the mountainside (as opposed to into it) with timbers and logs as
