Death in the Marshes

Their bulky silhouettes sashay with a grace that belies their girth, a languid gait, and a regular routine that requires no guidance, the blue light gives way to hazy dawn, where the mist mixes with the smoke from clay ovens, and the boys are heading to the fields to work. Bubalus bubalis the beautiful Latin…

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The Killing Fields

Stepping out of the minibus I staggered trying to stamp my feet on the side of the road, exhaust fumes and dust swirled as the bus left me, the four or was it five hours scrunched up at the back had cut the blood supply to my legs and now I was  stumbling like an…

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Welcome to Vulture Town

It’s the land of Orpheus and serpents and dancing trees, and where the landscape has been carved by dragons

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