At some point in the past, my parents lived in Kingston, Jamaica. A lovely country with a rich heritage, many pleasant and welcoming citizens and a mouth watering (and searing) bbq tradition.
Their ranch home, however, constantly reminded each visitor that there is a dark and violent side to the Jamaican capital. Guards on duty twenty four hours a day, dogs at their side. A perimeter wall topped with shards of broken glass. A CB radio constantly ready in case of crisis. An internal “safe room,” secured with wrought iron gates and cinder blockwalls.
Jan Chipchase recently visited Afghanistan, were she noted that the sound of an approaching ice cream cart is actually a reminder that her his freedom of movement and action is quite circumscribed, especially in a land where violence and personal harm can arrive quickly and with little notice.