Last Days

My time here is almost up. But I know I'll be back. Zlatko has already asked me to come back in August for another film. There's still a lot to be done, still many refugees, rebels still hiding in the jungle, crouching over their ancient Kalashnikovs in the rain, still political prisoners like Hussein Radjabu serving 13 years in prison, still a parliament paralysed by confusion.

There's one last thing tomorrow. One final scene to film before I leave. It is, perhaps, the most obvious scene, in a film about landmine clearance. But as yet, it hasn't happened. It almost happened today, but it was delayed. I'm talking about an explosion. Yes, I still haven't seen an explosion. It should be the highlight of the trip, but so far - maybe because there aren't so many landmines even remaining in Burundi - I still haven't seen it. I'm talking about an intentional explosion, not an accidental explosion - that would be terrible. No, controlled demolition of abandoned mines, one electrical spark setting off a chain reaction that takes, Zlatko tells me, one hundred-thousandth of a second to complete.



This is, incidentally, about the same amount of sleep I get every night. Pure coincidence.