So there I was standing on the side of the road with the contents of my backpack disgorged on the new asphalt. There was a very animated man running in circles with a Zulu spear held high above his head. His war cry filled the air, “Contraband, Contraband, Contraband!” The officials had decided to search the whole bus and I was not the only one standing there with all of their possessions strewn about, but it was my backpack that had produced the spear. It was clear that the officials had found what they were looking for, because they stopped paying attention to everyone else and concentrated on me. At first I had thought that there was some rule about carrying a large, bladed weapon across the border, but I knew that was not the case,
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