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Take a seat, you are now in the village square. Enjoy!
The Crossroads at Jijiga

  Yonas is cross and munching saltbush. He swivels his head towards the rusting armaments left many moons ago by the Somalis and then back towards Habesha and Bworo. “Come on, you crabby old banda!” Bworo says. “We have work.” Yonas raises his head to the sky and emits a groan of extreme reticence, the guttural groan of the despairing slave in captivity. Habesha giggles and Bworo shakes his head. They are accustomed to the protests of their only…

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