My husband’s work assignment took us to Angola. He was a journalist investigating the exploitation of citizens by the state following the end of the war. Young men could earn a fortune tending the verdant hillside – simply to keep it looking pretty for the rich, white population. It had become a tradition for locals and white settlers alike to observe the workers from the safety of the roadside in the valley. In the crowd were several former workers, now sporting false legs. At least one worker was blown up on the hillside every day – for beneath the lush grass lurked mines planted by the Iraqis during the war. Many former workers were proud to show off their prosthetic limbs, comparing and contrasting their features as if they were sports cars. They also enjoyed the “sport” of spotting which of the workers on the hillside would be the next to hit a mine. Later we visited a municipal rubbish dump and discovered that the Angolans throw out many valuable things.