Alas, this is not about an 80’s iBanker’s night out with corpulent ingénues.
Since the enactment of the curfew, the town has almost shut down. I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of working for the past two weeks. I’ve met a couple UN guys that say its very quiet. They’re both Canadian, but surprisingly cool. all thing considered. The problem big problem with all of this is that we buy a few goods locally. About once a week, we buy a cow to feed the staff. It’s slaughtered here in the camp.
I hear it takes two people:
One guy to crack the beast on the head and slit its throat
The other guy to sweep all the viscous, treacly, sanguinely scarlet blood gurgling into a drain as the moribund creature writhes and flails; helpless against the onslaught of permanent darkness.
We’re gonna try and get a cow tomorrow, if possible since things are letting up. If so, expect odious video evidence on YouTube. Send all hate mail to the comments, please.
But aside from the cow, we get beer and soda. The coke is all in glass bottles and somehow tastes better. Actually incredible. So delicious, in fact, I find myself drinking more and more coke, as if to spite my exceptional simper. Ahh, but the beer. The beer we buy is Bell Lager, a light and crisp Pilsner style brew with a delicate bead and crisp finish, completely devoid green-bottled European skunk. Between it and Tusker, African beer is frickin’ awesome.
The bartenders know people, so we were able to score a couple cases of Bell yesterday. But today the price of a bottle was more than we charge here at the bar.
We just ran out of Coke this afternoon.
Tonight we may have our own riots to deal with.