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Religious and cultural institutions give cognitive pacification when crop failures occur or new mothers die during childbirth. The traditions here are strong and people have discovered ways to endure. While most survive, the majority does so in chronic and pervasive poverty. Economic need is profuse. My eyes are continually opened to the consequences of destitution. My heart hurts. How was I so lucky? If the situation were reversed, would anyone be willing to come to my aid? It would be so easy to turn away. Perhaps, with time, I would forget these feelings of responsibility.
By midmorning, we had ventured beyond the village where we had spent the past several days. Each passing ridge provided a more picturesque view than the last. We stopped to talk to travelers making their journeys on foot. Each person seemed helpful in giving us the needed information to continue our voyage. I found myself looking for crop selection patterns as we slowly traversed past fields of cassava, soybean, and sweet potato. No astonishing blueprint was discovered. Observing the passing fields in this way drew attention to fields that were unplanted or overgrown with weeds. If people were going hungry, why not plant seeds in every field? Closer scrutiny satisfied my query. Unplanted fields were marked with placards reading “DANGER MINES!” These words, written in both English and the local language, were positioned on a metal rectangle, illuminated with a brilliant red backdrop, and hoisted on a bamboo pole to a height that would likely alert a passerby to the present danger. A skull with crossing bones was pictured in the center of the design. The untamed expansion of the landmine-laden fields occasionally concealed the visibility of the warning placards from the roadsides view. With a little bit of practice, I was able to discover the next red sign, having noted typical placement practices. DANGER MINES! DANGER MINES! DANGER MINES! The signs were everywhere.
A young boy walking near one of these signs caught my eye. I asked my motodriver to pull to the side of the road. My hands went into an automatic mode of attaching a long-range lens to my camera while my legs scurried toward a position that would facilitate the perfect picture. I sat quietly. I wondered why anyone would risk walking through such