Tete corridor, Mozambique 1995. Driving from Zimbabwe en route to Malawi.

As we approach Tete, the end of God's earth, a town of mostly shanty shacks and shell ridden dwellings, the river suddenly appears around a bend in the road. Blue/green, it snakes through this God-forsaken place.

Patches of bright green river weed dot the edges of the river and people swim, bathe, launder their clothes in small groups on the banks, seemingly mindless of the threat of hippo or crocodiles. But what have they got to lose? Another limb? Another family member? Possessions? They have none.

The drive over the Tete river bridge reminds me of the atmosphere evoked in 'Apocalypse Now'.
It is early morning. River mist is rising and drifting slowly, heavily across the water, between the bridge struts and over the town, lending an ethereal quality. Faceless people flit like shadows, shrouded by the mist; through doorways, across the facade of a building, then evaporate and blend with the mist which seemingly created them.

Sounds are somehow magnified in this cocoon of teased cotton. Goats bleat, voices, mechanical sounds and the clunk of our old series two Landrover wheels as we drive up and on to the bridge, the pace slow, following our leader.

At the othe side, a toll booth in the middle of the road. A youth appears and stands, legs apart, barring our way. No English but the shared understanding of what and outstretched hand, palm up, means. 'Give me money.'
What to do?
This is no official bridge toll. He wears no uniform, no badge of officialdom. At the edge of my vision, movement in the toll booth. His compatriot lurks there fondly caressing the just visible AK47, a rhythmic almost sensuous stroking. Nothing is said but the message is clear.

The decision is made then, looking in to the war-deadened, emotionless eyes of this youth. Death holds no fear for him. No punishment can equal the horrors his short framework of reference holds. Life has no value. War has just ended, order does not yet reign.
I pay the money and drive on, cold and queasy inside. It could have been my sons surviving this way but for an accident of birth.