Soft as cotton

He had divorced a year ago. That arranged marriage should have never happened. The way to forget and to run away from the gossip was to go abroad, he thought...and this is how Colonel Maj Khan found himself heading a mission of Blue Helmets in Korogho, Northern Ivory Coast.
He had always had a taste for adventure and that had brought him to join the intelligence unit of the Pakistani army. Then marriage, followed by drama. And then there we were, sitting in what looked to me, and probably was, a private jet from the UN. For a second I thought of my mum, who has no grand children to show to the neighbors, but plenty of pictures of meri going around.
Meri was there to interview cotton farmers. The Colonel was there to forget. Coincidentally he was thousands of miles away from the gossip, from the woman that made the last 5 years of his life so miserable, but close to the softness of cotton. That softness he had known so well, growing in a family of cotton farmers in Southern Pakistan.

The jet took off and the German pilot announced that it would take 26 minutes to reach Boundiali. Neither 25, nor 20. 26. Life seemed less precise and soft than that UN flight.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Boundiali, Ivory Coast

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